


00Q Prompts and Headcanons

by astudyinfic



Category: SPECTRE (2015), Skyfall (2012) - Fandom
Genre: Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-01-09
Updated: 2016-03-30
Packaged: 2017-11-24 07:09:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 43
Words: 27,954
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/631784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/astudyinfic/pseuds/astudyinfic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>These are the prompts and headcanons that I have filled from my various tumblr blogs.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Nightmares

**Author's Note:**

> These are unbeta'd so if you see any major typos or other errors, please let me know!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For the prompt: I'd love to prompt h/c please, preferably a nightmare scene with Bond having a really really bad nightmare and Q is there to anchor and ground him. I love those so much. Hope that's not too boring?

The first night Bond had a nightmare while they were sharing a bed Q did what he thought any normal person would do.  He leaned over and wrapped his arms around the man, doing his best to comfort him.  He forgot of course that they were anything but normal and he was sharing the space with a trained killer.  Before he had a chance to even blink, Bond had him on his back, his strong forearm at Q’s delicate looking throat.  Even though his heart was threatening to pound out of his chest, Q slowly relaxed every muscle in his body, going completely limp under the still sleeping man. 

“James,” he said softly.  “James, it’s me.  It’s me, James.  You are alright.”  He continued the gentle litany until Bond’s eyes opened, widening at the sight in front of him. 

Mumbling an apology, Bond threw some clothes on and was out the door before Q had a chance to tell him that it was okay.

007 avoided him for a few days prior until Q rigged the lift to strand them both between floors.  “Shit, James.  You can’t keep avoiding me.  It happened, we both lived, let’s move on.”

“What if you don’t, next time?”  Bond growled, though Q could see the fear in his eyes. 

Q raised a hand to cup his cheek, “Well, I know what not to do now, right?  I knew what I was getting into with you.  You can’t get rid of me that easily.”

“Q,” James started, but Q pressed his finger to the man’s lips.

“I don’t want to hear it.  Unless it is something like ‘Q, I love you,’ or ‘Q, you are the greatest shag I have ever had’ just keep it to yourself.  We’ll make some adjustments and it will be fine.”

From then on, Q slept on the left side of the bed, away from Bond’s dominant hand.  The next time Bond had a nightmare, Q removed himself from the room, lounging in the living room with a cup of tea, trying to not hear the cries of the man he loved.  With each nightmare he moved himself closer first a chair, then the bed until he could grasp Bond’s left hand lightly, stroking the wrist in soothing circles with his thumb.  The nightmares now happen less often, last for less time and Q feels useful where he once felt powerless.


	2. Scars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For the prompt: Q was actually employed by MI6 at the time of the explosion of M's computer from the beginning of the film. In fact, he was at ground zero of it. Because of such, his body - arms/legs - are covered in burn/shrapnel scarring and he's extremely self-conscious (and only wears long sleeves because of it). Enter 007 who wants to bed the Quartermaster, only to be met with a steadfast no. Eventually Q relents, shows Bond the scars, & expects to be dumped but Bond still thinks him beautiful.

Bond had never worked so hard to get one date, especially from someone who was so obviously attracted to him.  He noticed the slight darkening of his Quartermaster’s green eyes when they spoke, the way he unconsciously licked his lips.  Every time he appeared on the verge of saying yes, only to have his face fall as he muttered, “I won’t be another of your conquests, 007.”

Finally, after days, week, MONTHS of asking, Q said, “Fine, yes.  Only coffee,” and Bond readily agreed.  A few afternoon coffee breaks were followed by a dinner at a nice restaurant not far from Q’s flat.  As Bond dropped him off, he could see the indecision warring in the young man’s eyes.  “Would you like to come up for tea?” he finally asked, voice so soft Bond strained to hear it. 

“Yes, I would like that,” he smiled, parking the Aston Martin and coming round to open the door for Q.

James stood in the well appointed kitchen, watching Q make tea, then followed him to the living room where they sat on the couch, Bond relaxed where Q was tense. 

Setting his tea down, James leaned forward to brush a strand of hair from Q’s face.  “What’s wrong, Q?  Talk to me.”

Q leaned into the touch briefly, before pulling away, heartbreak evident on his face.  “Remember the bomb at MI6?  The one that brought you back to London?” he finally asked, puzzling Bond with where this was going.  “I was there.  I was on my way to M’s office to do some upgrades to the computer system.  I had noticed something unusual and wanted to make sure everything was alright.  I was on the other side of the door when the bomb went off…”

The moment it all clicked, Bond’s mouth formed an O for a brief second before he smiled softly at Q.  “Can I see?” he asked but was greeted with a vigorous shake of the head.

“No one can see.  I’ve never shown any one.  It’s too horrible.”  He sounded broken, so unlike the confident head of Q-Branch that Bond knew and appreciated.

Slowly, Bond removed his jacket and tie before unbuttoning his shirt and pulling it off.  Q stared, eyes darkening with lust as Bond began pointing out his scars, one by one.  “This one was Turkey.  Moneypenny almost got the kill with that one.  And Borneo, knife.  This patch here was a mine in central Russia.  Back when there was a Russia.  One of my first assignments.”  

Q reached out, tentative and Bond took his hand, placing it directly over the gunshot scar.  Fingers gently danced over the skin as Q took in every mark and wound on 007’s torso. 

When he was done, he slowly unbuttoned his jumper and shirt, removing them and looking away, afraid of what he might see in James’ eyes.   Jumping at the touch, he turned to see Bond running his hand over one of the darker scars.

“Beautiful,” he whispered as he bent forward to kiss Q. 

Q moaned into the kiss before pulling back, tears shining in his eyes.  “Beautiful?  How can you think that?  I am burned and scarred.  There is no way anyone can see this as beautiful.  I’ll understand if you want to…” 

Bond stops the thought with a kiss, deeper this time, pulling Q towards him so they are chest to chest and lying partially on the couch.  “You are beautiful.  I’ve wanted you since the moment I first saw you in the museum.  And this?  It just adds to your appeal.  It shows that you are strong.  You are courageous.  You are a fighter.  And those things just make you more attractive.  So no more talk about me leaving over this.  If you want me, you have me.  And I will love you, mind and body.”


	3. Stress and Comfort

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For the prompt: As I'm a sucker for h/c : Q leads Bond via their phone line and almost can't make it. Inwardly he freaks out and fears for Bond so much but he managed to stay calm officially. Bond notices and when he's back he wants to praise Q and that's the moment Q breaks down. Lots of comfort?

 “Third door on your right is the exit.  It is guarded by two armed guards with three more men on the other side.”  Q’s heart threatened to beat through his chest but he refused to let any of the technicians or analysts buzzing around see his panic. 

“Copy,” 007 replied before gunfire punctured the silence on the line.   The red dot labeled “007” on the computer screen in front of him continued moving even though all he could hear was the sound of the shots.

Q hissed, “007!  007!  Are you alright?  Answer me!”   He paused, listening as Bond grunted painfully.  A large explosion initiated the longest ten seconds of Q’s life.  Eyes wide, he stared at the screen, willing that little red light to stay illuminated. 

“Item is recovered.  I’ll see you back at HQ.” Bond finally replied at the point where Q feared he would faint from the stress.

“Good job keeping this one low-key.  We wouldn’t want to ruin your record of blowing up buildings, now would we?” Q quipped, hiding his fear behind his ever present layer of sarcasm and bravado.  Bond just chuckled before disconnecting the line.

It’s late by the time Bond returns to MI6.  Ever since the incident in Turkey is required to check in immediately at the end of a mission.  Having finished his debrief with M, he makes his way to Q-branch to return the pieces of the equipment that he managed to salvage and isn’t surprised to see Q still at his desk. 

“Q, do you ever sleep?” he asked, dropping the bits of gun on the table.

Glancing at the pieces, Q looked up at him with a strange glint in his eye, “And when would I have time to sleep when I have to keep building you new guns.”

Bond smirked, enjoying this familiar banter.  “You did well today.  I wouldn’t have made it out if you hadn’t…”  He stopped, seeing the terrified look in Q’s eyes.  “Q…” he reached out, feeling comfortable enough with no one around to touch his young lover.

Q surprised him, throwing his arms around James, pulling him close.  “I thought I lost you,” he mumbled into James’ neck.  “I don’t know how much longer I can do this.  I can’t stand sitting here listening to people shoot at you, waiting for the day that the dot on my screen goes dark.  But I can’t assign you a different Quartermaster.  I need to be there for you.  Not them.  I just.  I hate this sometimes.”  Bond could feel the dampness on his skin from the tears that Q hadn’t been able to stop.

Holding Q close, he pressed a kiss to his dark hair.  “I always come back, Q.  Resurrection is what I am best at.  And don’t even think about assigning me to someone else.  I would drive them crazy and they would be begging you to take me back.”  He smirked before continuing, “You are the one I want in my ear and on my side.  You are the only one I trust.  M knew this would work when she assigned me to you.  I just don’t think she knew how well.”

He pulled back and cupped Q’s chin in his hand, pressing a soft kiss to his lips.  “I’m here now.  And while I may not always be, I will do my best to always come back.  Because when I come back, it will always be to you.  Always.” 

Q nodded sadly, knowing that the chances were that one day Bond wouldn’t come back but until then they had each other.  And for now, that was enough.

 


	4. Aftermath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For the prompt: Q picks up the pieces after 007 loses M at Skyfall. Never shows what happens between the chapel to her funeral.

After leaving the breadcrumbs for Silva, Q cut contact with Bond and M per their request. No technology of any kind. Except the Aston Martin. Because the Aston was always an exception. Q waited for well into the night for some word from the agent but none came. Late that evening, he left MI6, hoping for good news when he returned in the morning.

The sun is just coming over the horizon when Q wakes to the feeling that he is not alone. Dragging himself from bed, he remembers to grab the gun he keeps in his night table before making his way to the living room. 

“007?” he asks, incredulously. “What are you doing in my flat?”

When Bond doesn’t respond and continues to sit with his head in his hands on Q’s couch in the early morning hours, Q knew that something had gone terribly wrong. Setting his gun aside, he came to sit on the coffee table in front of 007. “Bond. Why are you here?” He forms the question carefully, changing the wording just enough so that he hopes it will warrant an answer. 

“Silva is dead,” came the reply with none of the personality Q typical heard from Bond. “M. M, too,” he finished softly. 

Tentatively, Q reached out to touch Bond’s shoulder, almost drawing back at the piercing cold of his clothes and skin. “You need to warm up and you need sleep. You can’t deal with any of this until you are rested.” Q reverted to Quartermaster mode, which mainly consisted of being a mother hen to stubborn field agents as far as he was concerned. When Bond looked at him with such sadness that Q felt the need to hug the man close, he instead pulled him to his feet and pointed him to the bathroom. “Shower. I’ll find you something to wear. And then you are going to sleep. I’ll call Tanner and get things worked out.” Bond nodded and shuffled to the bathroom without another word.

Tanner confirmed what 007 had told him as well as informing him that Bond had destroyed his family’s home in the process. Besides Bond, the only survivor was the caretaker who had known 007 since childhood. Tanner gave him and most of the staff the day off while they tried to figure out where to go from here. Q told him he would watch out for 007 and report back if there were any issues. 

Bond was still in the shower when Q got off the phone, so he left a towel and some pajamas just inside the door. Returning to the kitchen he made a cup of tea and was bringing it to the bedroom when Bond emerged from the bathroom. “For you,” Q said simply and guided the man to the bed. “We can talk in the morning,” and with that he left him to sleep.

Fifteen hours later Bond stumbled from the room looking more rested but still broken. Without a word, Q left his laptop and went to make some food, certain the man had eaten in more than a day. They didn’t talk; over food, over telly. They sat in a semi-comfortable silence, Q typing on his computer and Bond lost in his own thoughts.

About twenty minutes before Q was going to suggest sleep, Bond spoke up, “She found me when I was still a very young man. Always said orphans make the best agents. Nothing to live for, I guess. She made me into who I am today. Every time I died, I knew I would come back. We needed each other. And now, she isn’t coming back.” He sipped the Scotch he had found in the back of Q’s cupboards as Q closed his laptop and came to sit on the couch next to him.

“She found me too. Got me out of the system. Used the orphan line on me as well,” he said softly. 

Bond nodded. “Come to bed with me.”

Opening his mouth to decline when Bond interrupted, “Just to sleep. I… I don’t want to be alone.”

Nodding once, Q got up and pulled Bond to his feet. In the bedroom, he turned away from 007 as he pulled on his pajamas, self conscious about his skinny form. Normally he did not sleep in a shirt, but debated it briefly before deciding against it. He climbed into bed and waited for Bond to do the same. 

Bond climbed in to the other side, turning off the light on the bed side table. As Q drifted off, Bond rolled wrapping him in his strong arms, face nuzzling his neck, already sound asleep. Taking the opportunity, Q turned his head to inhale deeply the deeply masculine scent of the agent in his bed, before pressing a kiss to Bond’s hair. “Good night, James,” he murmured before drifting off himself.

The next morning was the funeral. Bond and Q arrived separately and Q barely had a chance to see him afterward, going back to work immediately. 

That night he was not surprised to find Bond on his couch, Scotch in hand and, strangely, a ceramic bulldog on his coffee table. Finishing his drink, Bond pushed himself to his feet and came to stand in front of the quartermaster.

“Thank you, Q. I appreciated it,” was all he said, before pressing a soft kiss to Q’s lips before walking out the door.

“Anytime, Bond. Anytime,” Q whispered as the door closed behind him.


	5. Doubt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For the prompt: Bond falls in love with Q but Q can't believe someone like Bond could truly fall for him. Much self-doubt on Q's side, maybe e's had bad experiences before, but Bond shows him how much he's loved.

Three weeks after M’s funeral, Q finally lets 007 into his bed.  The face that it took that long was a testament to Q’s self control.  He had been smitten with the agent since the moment he laid eyes on him at the museum.  Actually, perhaps it was even before that, when M had told him he would be assigned to the infamous 007.  Because who in MI6 hadn’t heard of the exploits of their longest serving double-oh agent?  A man who seemed to survive more deadly events than all the other double-ohs combined.

But at the same time, he knows that the infatuation (he refuses to call it love, because that just makes it all the more painful) is one sided.  How could it not be?  James Bond is the ultimate man; the type of man who could have anyone he wants, and usually does.  When the man has had every gorgeous woman in both hemispheres, what is he going to see in a gangly computer geek from Leeds?

Q finds Bond at his flat more often than not these days.  He never questions it and has started brewing coffee as well as his tea when he gets home, knowing sooner or later the agent will show up.  There are now lie-ins on their rare days off, dinners out, and the occasional gift left on his desk.  

Following a rather uneventful mission, Bond returned to Q-branch equipment intact and bearing one more gift, a small trinket he picked up at a market in Budapest.  As Q turns the item over in his hand, absolutely beautiful, perfect, and utterly heartbreaking, he finally asks Bond what has been on his mind for months, “Why?”

“Because it reminded me of you.  I wanted you to have it.”

Q shook his head, “No, why me?  Why do you stick around?  No one has spent this much time with me, ever.  No one has ever brought me gifts.  And especially not someone as wonderful as you.  I don’t deserve it.  So why do you keep coming back when you could have anyone else in the world?”

Bond’s eyes widened as he took in the normally confident man in front of him looking so small and vulnerable.  “Because I love you.  I thought that was obvious,” he whispered, cupping Q’s cheek. 

“You couldn’t,” Q muttered, shaking his head before glancing around to see if anyone saw them.  He hadn’t realized it was so late and they were the only two around.

“I could and I do.  You are as beautiful as you are brilliant.  You are the only one I can trust to always be there no matter what is going wrong.  You are the voice in my ear on missions and the voice in my heart always.  You’ve read my file.  You know that I disappear after every mission.  So haven’t you wondered why I am always back immediately?  The answer is simple.  It’s you.  You are where I want to be.  You are home, Q.”

“You…  You love me?” Q asked, the uptick on the last word as obvious as his own incredulousness. 

“I do.  Always.”

“Me too, James.  I love you too.”


	6. Anniversary

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For the prompt: Each year when it's their anniversary Q goes to the bar/club they went for their first date. Bond though can never be there as he's usually on a mission or so. This year Q does the same, knowing Bond can't be there again and though he totally understands he's a bit sad about it. Then Q closes his eyes and swags lightly to the music when someone (=Bond) steps behind him and holds him, moving both of them to the music. Please?

On the first year, James was somewhere in sub-Saharan Africa dealing with arms dealers.  Q had been dismissed for the evening, and not feeling particularly inclined to go home and feel sorry for himself, instead found his feet taking him to the small club they had gone to on their first date.  Back when they were trying to keep things under wraps, they went out of their way to find a locale no one from MI6 would think to find them at, and a small dance club on the far side of London fit the bill.  They talked, they drank, they danced.  At some point they fell in love.  Neither had been back since that first date, but today it was just where Q wanted to be.  He had a drink, sat at the table, and watched the people sway in time to the music.  Maybe next year.

On the second year, Bond was working with another quartermaster for the time being after they were found being “unprofessional” in the supply cupboard.  The quartermaster wouldn’t tell Q where James was or what he was doing, even though Q was in fact is supervisor.  Q stormed out of the department and made his way back to that dance club, determined to dance away some of his frustrations.  Late that night, dripping with sweat and feeling a little better, he made his way back to the flat.  Hacking his own system, he smiled softly seeing the red dot labeled “007” safely on his way back home.

On the third year they thought luck was finally on their side.  Of course a revolution in Burma changed everything and two hours before their date, Q was handing 007 his new gun with a whispered “Be careful” before Bond rushed off to catch his flight.  With Bond in the air and out of touch for several hours, Q once again went to the club, now feeling it was the appropriate place to be.  He didn’t much feel like dancing this year, but sat and nursed his drink, watching the happy couples on the floor and cursing their bad luck.

The fourth year was a repeat of the third, though James found himself out the door still dressed in the tuxedo he was going to wear to the opera that night.  Back at the club once more, Q found himself with numerous invitations to dance, as well dressed as he was, and after awhile he forgot his melancholy and enjoyed himself.  He was even happier when he received a text as he was on his way home.  _I miss you.  I love you.  J_

When the fifth year rolled around, he had no illusions that James would be in London so when a week prior he sent to Argentina, Q simply shrugged his shoulders and did his best to equip him for the mission.  Seven days in and he found himself back at the club, determined to shake off his self-pity.  This was the way it worked.  James had a mission, Q went to the club.  He danced and enjoyed himself as much as he could, though his heart was in Buenas Ares.  When a slow song came on, he excused himself from the floor, picking his way through the various couples pairing up for the dance. 

A strong pair of arms wrapped around him from behind and he twisted while saying, “I’m sorry.  I don’t really like this…”  His breath caught as he looked into Bond’s crystal clear blue eyes, who simply smiled and pulled him closer.

“Happy Anniversary, Q.”

“Happy Anniversary, love."


	7. ANGST- Brainwashed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For the prompt: i would like to prompt angst fic for bond/q please. could you write about james bond being brainwashed by the enemies with some sort of machine or something and forget all about q? of course, q will try everything to bring his lover back but he has to figure out the machine first.
> 
> Please ignore the pseudo-science. Suspended disbelief, people!

“James.  James, speak to me.”  Q breathed a sigh of relief when those ice blue eyes fluttered open.  It had been 3 weeks since 007 disappeared and when he had been rescued, they found him strapped to a machine.  Q knew he should be down running diagnostics to determine what exactly it had done to the agent, but first he needed to be sure that Bond was alright.  “Oh thank God,” Q sighed, pressing a kiss to Bond’s lips.

Bond recoiled visibly, a startled look in his eyes.  “Who do you think you are?” he growled, looking part horrified and part murderous.

“James, it’s me.   It’s Cris.  Q.  You are safe now.  We have you back here at MI6.”

“I don’t know who you are.  Get out of my room this instant or I will kill you.”

Q stuttered, willing the tears to stay in his eyes.  “James, please,” he grabbed 007’s hand lightly.

When Bond lunged at him the bodyguard outside the room pulled him into the hall before the agent could follow through with his threat.  Out in the hallway, the bodyguard released him only to grab him once more when he tried to reenter the room.  “Sir, I am under orders to not let you back in.”

Q cursed under his breath.  “You can’t keep me out.  I’m his partner and quartermaster.”

“My orders come from M, sir.  He will be here momentarily.”  Q glared at the man, even though he was only doing his job.  Sitting on the bench outside Bond’s room, he tapped his foot impatiently waiting for M to arrive.

When he did, he was greeted by an angry Quartermaster.  “You have no right to keep me from his room.”

“Q this is for your own safety.  I saw what happened via CCTV.  I cannot risk him attacking you again.”  Q opened his mouth to argue but M continued, “I know you want to be there for him but right now he would be better served by you figuring out what that machine did and how to reverse it.”  He looked at Q sympathetically, “I know it is hard but you need to do your job.  We’ll keep an eye on him.”

Reluctantly, Q agreed and returned to his department to begin running tests on the equipment.  One computer screen, however, was connected to Medical with Bond’s vital stats and a CCTV feed of his room showing constantly.

It did not take long for him to realize how sinister this bit of technology was.  Using electro-currents, it rerouted the victim’s synaptic pathways.  The person attached would no longer recognize or trust the person that meant the most to them.  By capturing a double-oh agent, they most likely wished to destroy his trust in MI6, not realizing that this particular one had someone else to live for.

Working diligently for almost a week, Q went to Bond’s room twice a day in the hope that the effect had worn off, only to be pulled out immediately when the agent tried to attack.  He figured out how to reverse the machine but the odds of success were slim.  Realizing there was nothing he could do to increase the likelihood of a positive outcome, he presented his findings to M. 

“There is a 20% chance that this will restore him to normal, a 20% chance of no effect whatsoever and there is a 60% chance of catastrophic side effects, the most likely being death.”  Q stated the data in a matter of fact tone though he felt as though he was breaking inside.

M looked grave as he reviewed the information in front of him.  After several tense minutes he finally spoke, “Any choice here is a bad one.  You are the one approved to make 007’s end of life decisions and I feel this classifies.  So I leave this in your hands.  What would Bond want?”

Q thought about it.  James would want to live, that much was certain.  But at what cost?  He wouldn’t be any good to MI6 if he no longer trusted Q-Branch which is what his hostility towards Q would amount to.  Would James want to live without his career and his partner?  No, Q thought, he wouldn’t.

“James would want us to try.  If there was even a chance we could bring him back, he would tell us to do it.”

M nodded, “When can you be ready?”

“We can do it tonight.”

That evening, with 007 sedated to ease the procedure, Q tentatively hooked the agent up to the machine.  He consoled himself that no matter what happened, there would be no pain.  With a full medical staff at the ready, Q flipped the switch. 

Almost immediately he knew it wouldn’t work.  The neurotransmitters in his brain weren’t responding properly.  His grip on Bond’s hand tightened, hoping he could help pull him through with sheer force of will.  After five minutes and continually dropping vital signs, he turned off the machine and asked for some privacy.  Everyone silently vacated the room and, when the door finally closed, he let his tears fall.

“It’s alright, James,” he started, his voice more of a sob.  “I know you fought hard.  Harder than anyone else would have.  I wish I could have done more for you.  Held you one last time.  Seen your eyes shine in amusement, with one of those smiles that only I saw.  I love you so much.  I don’t want you to go.  But it’s okay.  I’ll miss you but you can rest.  Goodbye, James.”  Q leaned forward, burying his head in the crook of Bond’s neck, sobbing, while in the background the heart monitor emitted its soft, solid tone.


	8. Kidnapped

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For the prompt: Q is kidnapped and hurt (whump!) and almost doesn't believe Bond will be there in time. Maybe they speak via the radio, maybe not. Happy ending please?

Q woke dazed and disoriented.  Without his glasses and a possible concussion, he could only make out vague shapes in the dark room.  The last thing he remembered before waking up was leaving MI6 after working until the early hours of the morning.  He had been talking to James on his earpiece and then…

He shook his head, trying to clear the cobwebs.  They must have jumped him from behind.  He was certain he would have remembered if he had seen them prior to the attack.  Blinking a few times, Q quickly became convinced he was now hallucinating.  How else would he be hearing 007’s voice in this dark room?

“James?” he asked tentatively.

“Q!  Are you alright?  Moneypenny is tracking you right now.  We’ll be there soon.”  The relief was evident in the agent’s voice.

Closing his eyes, Q took stock of how he was feeling physically.  “Likely concussion.  Sore knees, probably from falling after they jumped me.  Chains on my wrists are too tight so cuts and abrasions there.”  He tried to keep his voice calm but Bond’s growl in his ear told him that perhaps he wasn’t as steady sounding as he hoped. 

“Five more minutes, Q.  I’ll be there in five minutes.”

Q was about to respond when he heard a key in the lock.  Having been on the line with agents in this situation more times than he wanted to think about, he knew this would probably not end well for him.  “They’re coming back,” he whispered, hoping they wouldn’t hear him.  “James, if you don’t get here in time.  I love you.  It’s not your fault so don’t blame yourself.  I love you, James.”

He never heard Bond’s response as pain shot through his head due to a blow from the back.  Distantly he could hear two voices, on in his ear and on in the room, yelling at him.  He couldn’t make out the words though due to the stars bursting behind his eyes following every blow.

Withdrawing into his mind, Q wondered if James would be upset with him for missing their date.   He had been working late so he could have the next evening off; they had tickets to the theatre.  James had used all his powers of persuasion to get Q to agree to go in the first place.  Hopefully Bond would still go, even if he didn’t have a tuxedo clad Q on his arm.

It took a minute to realize that while the yelling continued, the blows to his head and torso had stopped.  When things went silent, he managed to wrench his eyes open but without his glasses he still couldn’t see anything.  The pressure on his wrists disappeared and he instinctively flexed his fingers.

A soft hand gingerly touched his cheek and Q flinched slightly before realizing who it was.  “James?” he rasped, his throat raw from the screaming he had been unaware of doing.

“Yes, I’m here.  You’re safe.”  James voice was soft but Q knew it well enough to hear the hardness as he took in the extent of Q’s injuries.

“Kidnappers?”

“Dead.  And too quickly if you ask me, after what they did to you.”  Bond’s voice was deadly calm and Q momentarily pitied the kidnappers who made the epic mistake of choosing 007’s lover as their victim. 

Q’s head felt heavy and it lolled against Bond’s hand.  “You made it in time.”

He felt Bond’s lips against one of the few undamaged places on his cheek.  “Yes, I did.  You aren’t getting out of the theatre that easy, dear.”

As Bond lifted him to carry out to the waiting car, Q chuckled softly before relaxing into Bond’s arms, too tired and relieved to argue this once.


	9. Glasses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For the prompt: Something with Bond being super turned on - and utterly smitten - when Q wears his glasses? Especially in bed?

Q wore bifocals, thankfully not the old man type.  He just happened to forget his glasses a lot and, after mentioning this to the doctor decided that this was a better plan.  Most of the glass in the current lenses was clear with no magnification.  Only the bottom third was prescription, as he only needed them for reading and close-up computer work.  But since he wore them all the time, no one knew this.

After stealing elicit kisses in every deserted corner of MI6 they could find, Q thought it might be more appropriate to invite 007 to his place where they could enjoy some actual privacy.  Leaving at a reasonable hour for a change, he headed home to clean and cook.  By the time Bond arrived at the flat two hours later supper was almost done, the wine was chilled and the flat was immaculate.

Drying his hands, Q tossed the towel on the counter before answering the door.  He smiled a she pressed a quick kiss to Bond’s lips, who stood there looking confused, even after Q moved aside to let him in.  “Something is different,” he stated, moving past Q hesitantly.  “Where are your glasses?”

Q reached up to touch the space between his eyes.  “Oh, um, they must be around somewhere.  I don’t need them much around the house.”  Bond seemed to accept this and they went on to have a lovely dinner before watching a movie, curled together, on the couch.

When the kissing and cuddles turned to something more, Q invited Bond to his bed and Bond agreed willingly.  Toppling onto the bed, Bond grinned when he spotted a pair of glasses sitting on the bedside table.  Grabbing them, he slid them onto Q’s face smiling at the other man’s perplexed expression.  “You know I don’t normally where these during a shag,” Q stated, trying to pull them back off.

Grabbing his hand, Bond smiled before pressing another kiss to Q’s lips.  “But you don’t look like you without them.”

“I’m still me.  It’s not like I can’t see you or anything.”

Bond shook his head, fondly exasperated, “Fine.  Maybe I just have a thing for skinny nerds in glasses.”

“Oi!” Q started to argue, but the protest died quickly when Bond silenced him with another kiss.


	10. Trust

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For the prompt: Could you write anything slightly porny with Q sitting on Bond's lap? Preferably on the bed. And maybe Bond specifically wants it this way as it shows that he is willing to give Q control too, hard as it might be for Bond to let control go. But for Q he of course would. Only the emotional side of it would be great too. Whatever you're comfortable with.
> 
> Kinda went with porn with no emotion. Oops.

Q often wondered if they had gotten too comfortable with each other.  He found it hard to believe that Bond would be willing to lie in bed at 9PM on a Saturday reading a tattered old novel while Q typed happily away on his laptop, but here they were and this wasn’t the first time.  They had been together for well over a year and while Bond technically had his own flat somewhere across town, most of the time neither man could tell you exactly where it was.

Things were comfortable.  They were stable.  They were, well, a bit boring.  So on this particular night, Q decided that perhaps the computer could stand to be turned off for awhile. 

Setting it on the floor he smiled as Bond looked at him over the top of his book.  “Are you feeling alright?” he asked, probably because Q usually had to have the laptop taken from him by force.

“Just fine,” he smiled as he reached out to pluck the book from Bond’s hands, being careful to save his spot.  Removing both his glasses and Bond’s, he set them on the table before climbing over to straddle the older man’s lap.  Leaning forward and catching James’ face between his hands, Q kissed him deeply, sensually which Bond returned, his own hands trailing up Q’s back.

Pulling back slightly, Bond smiled, “What’s gotten into you tonight?  Not that I’m complaining.”

Shrugging, Q tilted his head to kiss James’ ear, tugging the lobe lightly between his teeth.  “Thought maybe we were a bit dull and needed to spice things up a little.”

Q grinned as he watched James’ eyes darken.  “And how do you propose we do that?”

“I’m going to get us both off without using our hands.  In fact, I want your hands behind your back.  I won’t tie them or anything.  Just keep them there and trust me.”  The last two words were out of Q’s mouth before he realized he said them and momentarily, he panicked.  James Bond did not trust.  Too many years in espionage and trained it out of him, and while Q had no doubt of the love James had for him, trust was simply not something Bond could give.  So it came as a great surprise when James’ simply nodded once and put his hands behind him. 

Placing his hands on the headboard behind James, Q captured his lips in a kiss, pulling James’ tongue into his mouth and fellating it while rocking his hips against the other man’s.  It didn’t take long for Bond’s hips to rise up to meet his, both erections prominent even through the layers of the pajamas. 

Using the headboard to brace himself, Q ground down on James, their erections pressed tight together.  The friction from the pajamas was enough to get him close but he wanted to see James come first.  Being able to reduce James Bond to his primal state was something Q took great pride in.  He moved his lips along Bond’s jaw, nipping and sucking at the sensitive skin before pressing a filthy kiss to the pulse point on his neck.  Just by the movements of the man underneath him, Q could tell he was on edge so with a quick thrust of his hips, Q bit down on the junction between neck and shoulder, grinning as James went stiff and cried out his climax.

Three more thrusts and Q was spilling into his pajamas as well, moaning Bond’s name into his neck.  As the endorphins spread through his body, he collapsed onto James who finally brought his arms back around and held him tight.

“Q, you are something else, you know that?” Bond laughed, pressing kisses into his hair.

Q just smiled before climbing off and helping James to his feet before going off in search of some clean pajamas.


	11. Pajamas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For the prompt: q says he can do more damage in his pajamas. bond finally see him in a pajama showing his skills.

“Love, could you turn on the kettle for tea?”

James chuckled to himself.  If someone had told him a month ago that he would be in a domestic, rather normal relationship with his nerdy little Quartermaster, he would have laughed in their faces.  Yet here he was, in Q’s flat making the man tea of all things while Q typed furiously on his computer while lounging in bed. 

As the water came to a boil, he popped his head back into the bedroom, smirking at how adorable a grown man could look in an oversized t-shirt and plaid flannel pajamas.   “Are you planning on getting out of bed this morning or will you just be sitting there playing games?”   Q merely grunted, not taking his eyes from the screen and Bond sighed before returning to the kitchen.

While the tea steeped he marveled that he could love someone the way he loved Q.  Sure, they hadn’t been together long, but it was the longest relationship he had ever had and the strongest as well.   Yet he often wondered if perhaps Q was more attached to his technology than he was to his partner.  When Q was disconnected he was loving and attentive, but the second a screen appeared in front of him, Bond lost him the virtual world. 

Picking up the two mugs, he made his way back to the bedroom but was met halfway by Q stumbling out, hair sticking up at all angles.

“Finally manage that level?” Bond joked, handing him his tea. 

Q inhaled the fresh smell deeply before turning to Bond with a smile.  “Something like that.  Just got you a day off.”

The comment puzzled James and he raised an eyebrow in question.  “A day off?  How did you do that?”

Shrugging, Q took a sip of his tea before answering, “M wanted me to equip you for a trip to Mali today.  Apparently there was a civil war that needed attending to.  The government is enslaving their people and slaughtering them when they try to revolt.  I didn’t really want you to go, so I just took down the government.  Not that difficult actually.”  He took another sip, “Thanks for the tea, love.  It’s perfect.”

Bond stared, blinking repeatedly at the young man in front of him.  “You just took down the government of Mali?  In your pajamas?  Before you even had one cup of tea?  My god, you weren’t joking.”

“I don’t joke about my work, Mr. Bond,” Q was smirking at him over the lip of his mug.  “Now that I have some tea in me, why don’t you come back to bed and I will show you what I can really do.”


	12. Insecure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For the prompt: I would like to request an insecure Q about his relationship with Bond and how Bond react toward his insecure young lover.

“So how are things with you and James these days?” Eve asked as they waited for their food.  They had a tradition that if James was away they would spend Friday evenings together eating greasy takeaway and watching bad movies.  Q thought they were bad.  Eve seemed to think they were romantic.

Sighing deeply, Q sat back against the couch.  “Not sure how much there is going to be a thing.”

“Really?” she asked, sounding surprised.  “Trouble in paradise?”

“Not really.  Things have been wonderful.  Perfect even.  Do you know he actually brought the Walther back from the last mission.  It’s just…” he trailed off, uncertain whether to voice his concerns or not. 

Eve placed her hand on his arm.  “What’s wrong?  It sounds like you should be thrilled.  Hot man.  Great sex.  Returned weapons.  What more do you want?”

“I’m just not sure how much longer he will stick around.  Last Saturday we just sat at home on the couch.  I coded.  He read.  There was no excitement.  No glamour.  I didn’t even change out of my pajamas.  This is my life, Eve.  MI6 and home.  No way a person like me can keep his attention.  I always assume that the next mission will be the last for us.  At some point, one of the marks will survive and I will be back to just being his quartermaster.  He sighed, running a hand through his unruly hair.  “There’s just no way a skinny, nerdy bloke like me can compete with the glamorous beautiful women he meets when he is away.”

His eyes widened as Eve started laughing at him.  “Q, you are the stupidest genius I know.  I dare you to tell him all of this.  Explain your concerns.  Do it before the next mission and on our next Friday together, you tell me what he said.”

Q shook his head vehemently.  “No!  I can’t say anything.”

“Why?  Because you are afraid you’re right or you’re afraid you’re wrong?”

She simply smirked at him when he snarled, “I hate you.”

“I know you do, dear.”  Her patronizing tone caused him to glare even more.  “Shake on it?”

He shook her hand, “You are an evil woman, Ms. Moneypenny.”

Three weeks later, Q found himself at Eve’s flat once more, James off again to parts unknown.  After the dinner order had been placed (Thai) and movie selected (Ever After), she turned to him with a knowing smirk, “So?”

Keeping his expression blank, he simply blinked at her, “What?”

“You know what.  Tell me what secret agent man said.  Do I have to kill him or book the church?”

Q rolled his eyes, “You really are an insufferable know-it-all.”

“Takes one to know one.  Now, spill.”

He shook his head, “And if I refuse?”

“Then I assign myself as his partner on the next mission.”

“Oh god.  Anything but that.  I have to see the reminder of your last mission together every night before bed.”  Taking a deep breath, “Fine.  I told him.  Everything I said to you, all my concerns.  Everything.”

“And?” she prompted, realizing a deep conversation between two individuals such as Bond and Q would have been rather painful to any outside observer, both so uncomfortable with their own emotions.

“He shagged me in to the mattress,” Q smirked before turning serious once again.  “Afterward he explained that when he is with the mark, he wishes it was me.  Wishes it was my body under his, my lips on his skin.  He’s had glamour and excitement his whole life and that what he has learned is that it is all fake.  Behind the mask of beauty is nothing but insincerity and fear.  But what he has never had is comfort.  Trust.  Love.  That while I may be a ‘skinny nerd in glasses’, I am also the truest thing in his life, the one thing he can count on.  That he would never trade our life together for anything.  That he loved me, for me. “

He blinked rapidly, willing the traitorous tears to stay in his eyes.  “So, um, thank you.”

Eve grinned and embraced him before rising to answer the door.  “You’re welcome, Q.”


	13. "Q"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For Meowbowwow's birthday, who requested 00Q orgasm denial. Happy Birthday love!

“Crispin, please,” James begged as Q pulled back once again.  This had been going on for almost an hour, ever since they had arrived home from work.   Q had manhandled James into the bedroom under the impression of makeup sex but was currently teasing and tormenting the man writhing underneath him.

“Tell me again, James, what does Q stand for?”

“Quartermaster.”  Stronger stroke for a correct answer and James keens properly under his ministrations.

“And what does the Quartermaster do?”

“Makes me nice things and saves my arse,” resulted in several more strong strokes, a nimble thumb gliding over his tip spreading the pooling pre-come down the shaft on the next stroke.

“And what does Q not stand for?”

“Queen of the nerds.”

Q’s hand loosened around James’s cock and the man thrust helplessly in search of more friction.

“What else does it not stand for?”

“Quack.”

“Yes, because do I look like a duck to you?” Q hissed the words into Bond’s ear, his own cock heavy against 007’s who attempted to rut against him.

“And what else?”

“Quantity.”  A long finger traced Bond’s long cock, dripping and neglected. 

“Because I am not a convenience store.  Everything I make for you is made by hand.  It takes considerable time and money and you can’t just expect that I have another one lying around for you.”  Swiping a drop of pre-come from the leaking dick, Q brought the finger to his mouth and sucked deeply, the sight nearly pushing Bond over the edge.

“Q.  Cris.  Please.”

“What do you say, James?”

“I’m sorry,” he gasped, as Q took hold of his cock once more.  “I’m sorry 005 and I called you Queen of the Nerds.  I’m sorry we called you a quack.  You are the Quartermaster.  You make Quality tech that keeps us alive.  You are anything but quotidian.  I have no quandary over my feelings for you.  I love you more than any quondam lover and your quiddities make you even more special.” 

Q heard enough, leaning forward to capture Bond’s lips in a heated kiss, stroking the man to completion, loving the sound of his name screamed from the agent’s mouth at peak of his orgasm. 

As Bond lay in the afterglow, Q tracing mindless patterns on 007’s chest, he grinned up at the younger man, “You are a dangerous person, Crispin Holmes.  I’m glad you are on my side.  And I am truly sorry that 005 and I mocked you today in front of your minions.”

Q pressed a quick kiss to the corner of Bond’s mouth.  “You are forgiven, James.  But next time you feel the need to torment someone, leave Q branch out of it and go see Moneypenny, alright?”


	14. Sex Pollen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For the prompt: some good old fashioned sex pollen

“007, now is not a good time,” Q stated as the agent walked into Q-branch.  Staff was limited as it was Friday night so Q had the department to himself to work on a sensitive project.  M had asked him to develop a biological weapon, not of the sort to kill or maim, but instead to render the victim so calm and relaxed that they couldn’t be bothered to fight back. 

Bond continued his path towards Q’s desk, completely disregarding the warning in Q’s voice.  “My mission was canceled so I’m returning my equipment for a change.”  He stood at the edge of the desk, watching Q hunched over the small metal object in front of him.  “What are you working on?” he asked, bumping the table as he leaned forward for a closer look.  As he did, Q’s hand slipped, causing the item in his hand to emit a small puff of dust. 

“Fuck,” Q muttered, jumping back dramatically.  He rushed to another computer, typing furiously and Bond heard the doors around Q-branch lock shut.  “Damn it Bond.  I told you it wasn’t a good time.”

Raising an eyebrow at the Quartermaster, Bond realized that Q was looking a bit flushed and if he was being honest with himself, it did feel warmer in the room.  “Q, what was that?”

“Biological weapon,” he muttered, stripping off his cardigan and tie.  Seeing Bond’s concerned expression he added, “Nothing dangerous but things are going to be uncomfortable until it wears off.”

“Q…” Bond drawled, “Uncomfortable in what way?”

“Uncomfortable in that I am going to lock myself in my office to keep us away from each other or we are about to become intimately acquainted.”

Bond stalked forward, stopping just in front of the quartermaster and using every bit of his self control not to wrap his arms around his thin waist and never let go.  “In plain English Q, tell me what that was.”

 “Sex pollen.  The calculations were a bit off.  I was going for post-orgasmic feelings of relaxation and contentment but instead lust seems to be the predominant emotion.”  And with that, Q lunged forward grabbing Bond’s head and pulling him in for a bruising kiss. 

Bond felt stunned for a moment a growing urge to shag the young quartermaster senseless overrode any lingering feelings of doubt and he pulled Q closer, hands roving all over the man’s back.  

“007, if you do not want this to go further, I recommend you pull away now because otherwise I have a feeling we are going to fuck each other raw before this is wears off.”  Q could barely pull his lips away from Bond’s to mutter the words and snapped back to him as soon as they were out of his mouth.

Bond merely growled and pulled him closer, “That sounds like a challenge to me, Q.”  Bond quickly discarded his coat and began undoing his tie as Q made quick work of his shirt, popping several buttons in the process. 

Q grunted as Bond shoved him against the wall, hand in his trousers as he took both of them from their pants and stroked.  Within minutes they had both come all over the clothing they were still wearing.

“We need.  To get.  To my office.” Q panted, trying desperately to remove their remaining clothes.  “I have lube.  And condoms.  And no windows.”

Nodding in response, Bond pushed him in the direction of the office, but it was two more orgasms (another by hand and one by mouth) before they made it to the door, stumbling in.

“Stay,” Q commanded, but the agent remained pinned to him, licking nipping and kissing any part of his body he could reach.  Eventually making it to his desk, Q pulled out some lube from a bottom drawer, handing it to Bond.  “Now!”

The agent simply nodded before pushing everything off the desk and laying Q down on top of it.  Bringing his legs up to give Bond acess for his fingers he cried out when Bond’s tongue penetrated him instead.  “God, Bond.  Yes!” He moaned, one hand thrown over his eyes. 

Soon Bond replaced his tongue with fingers, stretching the quartermaster thoroughly while stroking himself with the other hand.  Rolling on the condom, he lubed himself before lining up. 

“Ready?” Bond asked, voice strained with want and restraint. 

Q nodded, “Yes, do it already,” then screamed wordlessly as Bond pushed in all the way in the first thrust.  There was some pain but Q was too turned on to slow him down now and instead reached down to stroke his cock while Bond pounded into him with abandon.

Eight orgasms later, the two men lay curled together on the floor of Q’s office, utterly spent and almost back in their right minds.

“Bond, I’m sorry about this,” Q started, feeling uncomfortable with what they had just done now that the chemical was making it’s way out of his system. 

Bond chuckled and turned to look at him.  “My fault we wound up in this mess in the first place, right?  And it was rather fun.”  He reached over, brushing sweat soaked hair from Q’s face.  “When we can walk again, would you like to go get some dinner?”

“Are you asking me out Bond?”

“Well, I feel like after that, the least we can do is have some food.  And if we happen to end up at my place, well at least we know what we are in for.”

Q grinned and took Bond’s hand before letting his head drop back to the floor.  “I’d like that Bond.  I’d like that a lot.”


	15. Birthday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For the prompt: Q and James celebrating qs birthday gen if you don't mind please :-)

Shutting down his computer, Q sighed contentedly.  He had managed to make it through the whole day with no one realizing that it was his birthday.  He preferred it that way.  It was much easier to maintain his professionalism when they didn’t know he was still in his 20s.  Just barely, 29, but it was still young and he knew it.   But he made it all day with no one attempting a celebration.  Perfect.

Making his way through Q-Branch he checked to make sure everything was shut down that needed to be.  The last light was in the kitchen and as he reached for the switch something caught his eye.  The cupcake was small and just sitting there on the counter.  Q glanced around but there was no one to be seen.  Certain that it hadn’t been there when he made his last cup of tea, he picked it up and looked at it closer.

It looked fine.  More than fine actually.  It was chocolate with cream cheese frosting.  His favourite, though how anyone knew that was beyond him.  He worried that perhaps it was a trap but there was no way anyone would be able to infiltrate the department if they weren’t MI6 employees so there was probably no harm.  Shrugging, he took a bite, moaning as the soft cake hit his tongue. 

He smiled as he turned the light off and made his way back to his desk, eating his treat.  He slipped on his coat and threw the cupcake wrapper away.  Walking out of the department, he placed his hand in his pocket, pulling it out again almost immediately, a small box in his hand.  Q paused, looking at the box for a moment before slipping off the ribbon and opening.  Inside were gold cufflinks, shaped like the letter Q.  He smiled, making a mental note to check CCTV when he got back in the morning. 

As the lift doors opened to take him to street level, he nearly jumped as 007 was reclining inside the lift.  “Good evening, Q,” he said, smiling as the younger man struggled to regain his composure.

“007.  You’re here late tonight.  Thought you would have been gone hours ago.”

Bond pushed himself off the wall.  “Would have been.  Just had one thing that needed to be done and it was rather time sensitive.”

Q nodded, understanding that problem.  “I take it that you are on your way out now?”

“Yes, and this is my floor,” the agent left the lift as the doors opened. 

He turned just before the doors closed again, “Happy Birthday, Q,” he smirked, leaving a spluttering Quartermaster to ride the rest of the way on his own.


	16. Anniversary Dinner

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For the prompt: James is trying to cook q dinner for their anniversary but he fails at it and maybe q finds the attempt to be endearing or something cute and fluffy

 “That doesn’t look anything like the picture,” Bond finds himself mumbling, looking from cookbook to oven and back again.  He was not sure the last time he had actually cooked.  Being a double-oh paid well, he was rarely home, and Q was a fantastic cook.  Usually this led to them either eating out or grabbing something out on the town.  But tonight was special, and he wanted to do something to show the man what he meant to him.

However, the dish did not look right.  He was pretty sure it wasn’t supposed to be that shade of brown before the inside was completely cooked.  It smelled off too.  Almost sickieningly sweet with a hint of burning.  “How romantic,” he grumbled, pulling the pan from the oven.  No way he could serve that to Q and he was out of ideas. 

Hearing a key turn in the lock, he quickly shoved the mangled recipe into the cupboard, the cookbook under a towel, and pulled out the phonebook, casually flipping through as Q walked into the kitchen.  “James, is something burning?”

He started to say, “I don’t know what you are talking about,” when the smell of smoke became obvious to him as well.  “Fuck,” he grumbled, throwing open the oven door.  Inside was the potholder that, in his haste, he must have left inside the oven.  Grabbing it with tongs, he threw it in the sink, running water over it while Q attempted to hold in his laughter behind him.  “Don’t even start with me,” he growled .

Q wrapped his arms around him, pressing his face between James’ shoulder blades.  “What were you doing with the oven, James?  If you wanted fire, I have tech for that.”

“Trying to make you dinner,” he admitted, turning to face Q who had a pleased expression on his face, his eyes practically glittering with mirth, who quickly kissed him.

When he pulled back, Q cupped Bond’s cheek with his hand, “And what were you making for me.”

Bond sighed before reaching to open the cupboard.  “It was supposed to be chicken.  It doesn’t look right.  I followed the directions.  Even brined it, but it just looks…odd.”

“Well, show me the recipe.” 

Together they poured over the recipe line by line until Q turned to him, “Where did you get the salt for the brine?  I didn’t think we had that much.”

“There’s that container right there,” Bond stated pointing to a jar at the far end of the counter, which caused Q to burst out laughing.

“That’s sugar, Bond.  No wonder it smells sweet and slightly burnt.  We have candied chicken.” 

James started to walk away, but Q grabbed him by the wrist.  “It was lovely, James.  Thank you,” he grinned, pulling Bond in for a kiss.  “I love you, dear.  Happy Anniversary.”

“I love you, too, sweetheart.  Now, how about I go make something else for dinner.  Namely, reservations.”


	17. But I just made the bed...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For the prompt: There's something about clean sheets, having FINALLY stuffed the comforter into the duvet, that makes sex happen. Usually to the tune of: but I just made the bed!!!

Q hated mandatory days off.  He knew they were necessary and required as part of his job.  The old M had understood that he would stay at MI6 for days on end until he dropped due to exhaustion or starvation.  It was just who he was; a workaholic with no outside friends, family, life.  But he loved his job, tolerated the people he worked with, and didn’t have a problem with the way his life was turning out.

Apparently passing out in Q-branch however was frowned upon, so now he found himself at his flat on a random Tuesday in January with nothing to do but clean and watch telly.  He knew his computer usage was being monitored and he also knew he could circumvent the monitoring but there was no point.  Bond wasn’t on a mission so he felt no urgent need to be checking in every 2 minutes.  In fact the man was probably sitting at MI6 right now just as bored there as Q was here.  Only a few more hours…

Bond walked in 5 minutes after 5, either having driven ridiculously fast or having left early.  Both were probably true.  “Hi, honey, I’m home,” he quipped from the door where he was hanging his coat and toeing off his shoes. 

“Piss off,” Q grinned.  “Hope you don’t expect dinner just because I was forced to stay home all day.  Day off or not, I still can’t cook.”

Bond slipped his arms around Q’s waist, “Actually, now that you mention it, I am famished.”  Tilting his head, he licked and nipped at Q’s ear causing an unmanly whimper to rise deep from within Q’s chest.  “It is always a long day when you aren’t there.”

Pulling Bond closer, Q murmured, “You act like we shag at work all the time.  It cannot be that different when I am gone.  Yeah, you have to work with the minions but they are perfectly well trained.”

“Yes, but they don’t look like you,” Bond purred, pressing kisses to Q’s neck.  “They don’t sound like you,” another nip at his ear.  “They don’t smell like you,” he pressed a soft kiss to Q’s nose.  “And they certainly don’t taste like you,” he leered before licking his way into Q’s mouth, the younger man tangling his hands in 007’s short blonde hair.

Pushing back slightly, Q growled, “James Bond, if you have been licking my interns, so help me…”

Bond just grinned and kissed him again, hands sliding under the casual t-shirt Q was wearing.  “Bed.  Now.”

Much to his surprise, Q shook his head, breaking the kiss.  “Nope.  Not right now.  I have spent all day cleaning this flat because it turns out there is crap on telly during working hours.  The sheets are clean, even the duvet is clean.  I just finished in the bedroom and I would like it to stay like that for a few hours.

“You are turning me down,” Bond glared, sliding his hands under the waist band of Q’s pajama bottoms, “in order to keep the bedroom clean?”  He gripped Q’s arse firmly and Q whimpered, feeling his resolve falter. 

“Just the bed.  When was the last time it was completely clean?”  He didn’t expect an answer and honestly didn’t know himself, but his struggle was rather tepid as he allowed himself to be pushed towards the bed, clothing strewn along the way. 

“But Bond,” he argued, moaning as they pressed their now nude bodies together, “I just made the bed.”

“Who said anything about needing the bed?” Bond asked with a lecherous grin as he dropped to his knees.


	18. Random personal Q headcanon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Not for a prompt, just a personal headcanon that has been bumping around inside my brain for the last few days.

Q never wanted to be a computer genius.  It was something he was good at, beyond good; superb.  He knew he could easily make a career out of it, probably without even going to uni.  When he went to uni, he went to study literature.  Languages.  He is fluent in 17, most of them being as easy to pick up as the code that flows effortlessly from his fingertips.  He tried to take a computer science course is first year and walked out after 5 minutes.  He could have easily taught the course better than the professor and he was the youngest person there, the rest being graduate students.

Yes, he is good at computers.  He is good at tinkering.  In his mind, these things make sense.  They are organic.  But what he loves are words.  Written, spoken, it didn’t matter.  He studied literature and composition.  Foreign language.  His dream was to be surrounded by books, either in a library or a bookstore.  Perhaps his own bookstore, carrying only his favourite titles and genres.  Classic novels, science, philosophy, history.  Leather bound and perfectly maintained.  It would be a small shop, not many customers, but he could sit and read or write all day while sipping his Earl Grey.  A quiet life with words as his company.

Of course, it didn’t work out that way.  Word of his genius quickly made its way back to MI6, who recruited him before graduation.  The old Quartermaster was about to retire and they were in need of someone cutting edge.  The old way was out and the new way was in.  He would have unlimited access to cyberspace.  No one would stop him from hacking his way in wherever he wanted to go.  They would pay him well and he would never have to worry about another job again.

He accepted the position of course.  It would have been silly not to.  He does his job, he does it damn well, and somewhere along the way he came to truly enjoy it.  He has saved the lives of  several agents and more civilians than he could count.  But what most people at MI6 don’t know is that when Q goes home, when he becomes Crsipin again, he doesn’t own a computer.  He doesn’t own a television.  There is very little technology in his small flat, save for the phone he keeps on him at all times. But his walls are covered floor to ceiling in books.  The leather couch has a Cris shaped imprint from where he collapses after long days and longer missions, to lose himself in the words of Keats, Thoreau, and Eliot, as far from his techno-bunker at MI6 as he could possibly find.

It is there, amongst his books and words that he is truly happy.


	19. Cheater

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For the prompt: i would like to request sad break-up fic for bond/q.

It was late when Q walked into his flat.  Dropping his bag on the table, an uneasy feeling settled in his stomach.  By this time, James should be here, on the couch watching telly or reading a book.  Instead, the flat was silent and dark, the only light was coming from the bedroom.

Ignoring the sinking feeling in his belly, he made his way to the dimly lit bedroom.  It should have been brighter if Bond was reading, darker if he was asleep.  Perhaps James was ill.  If he had been injured, Q thought he would have contacted him or gone to medical.  The man was a menace to himself but did have a modicum of self-preservation.   But illness?  He would probably have just come to Q’s flat and waited for him to arrive. 

Hearing a grunt on the other side of the door, Q feared his suspicions were confirmed.  Throwing open the door he asked, “James, are you alright?” but stopped dead at the sight in front of him.  James was fine.  So was the man he was currently fucking in their bed.  Q’s bed.  They never had officially moved in together. 

“Who is that?” the man asked, his blonde head peering around Bond’s shoulder.  Bond, for his part had the decency to look somewhat guilty for a brief moment. 

Q wanted to scream.  He wanted to throw things.  He wanted to kill them both.  But he stood there, frozen at the sight of his lover in another man’s arms.  Sure, James seduced and slept with women on missions, Q in his ear the whole time, but this was different.  This was a man who James chose to sleep with, in their bed.  This was not a mission.  This was a slap to the face and a stab to the heart. 

When his legs finally obeyed, he turned abruptly and walked out of the flat, leaving keys, coat and mobile behind.  He walked for hours, finding himself back at MI6 but with no badge and no ID, he was turned away at the door.  He walked until his feet were sore and the sun was cresting over the horizon. 

It was mid-day when he returned home, cold, hungry, and empty inside.  Everything they had, all the trust they had built between them had been destroyed and Q didn’t even know why.  Relieved to find the door unlocked, he walked in, partially hoping to find Bond still there so he could get the explanation he deserved and partially hoping to never see the man again.

The flat was empty.  There was no sign of the heartbreak which had taken place hours before.  Afraid to sit down, unsure he would ever get up again, Q started to clean.  All the bedding was binned, taken downstairs and disposed of.  He would hire someone to take the bed away.  He could never sleep there again. 

In the back of his mind he knew he should call in, let them know he would not be working today.  He had never missed a day of work but there was always a first.  Bond should be there by now, or at least have made contact with someone.  It only seemed right that he be the one to explain why their Quartermaster wouldn’t be reporting in today.

By evening the flat was spotless, not one thing out of place.  Q finally picked up his mobile and sat on the floor, no longer trusting any of his furniture to not be tainted by James’ misdoings.  Several texts had come in through the day, but he opened the only ones that mattered.

_I’m sorry, Q.  -007_

_I don’t expect forgiveness. -007_

_I don’t deserve any.  -007_

_I don’t deserve you. -007_

He typed a quick reply and then, setting down the phone, allowed himself to fall apart for the first time all day. 

Outside his front door, a man sitting against the wall, head in his hands, received an incoming text.

_You’re right.  You don’t.  -Q_


	20. Q's Suicide

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For oldamongdreams' prompt: Q's Suicide Note

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warning: Suicide, Major Character Death.

_Bond._

_James._

_I know if you were here you would tell me it wasn’t my fault.  To stop blaming myself.  But I can’t do that.  I can’t face M.  I can’t face any of them.  The hearing is scheduled from tomorrow and I already know the sentence I am facing.  I am just saving them the trouble._

_We both knew this would never last.  I went into this relationship knowing that I would not come out alive and I am okay with that.  I would not trade my time with you for anything.  I would tell you not to mourn me but I would like to think that you will.  James, you have made my last few months happy ones, and perhaps, in another life we will meet again._

_Goodbye James._

_I love you._

_Cris_

Placing his note in the hallway, Q hoped it prepared Bond for what he would find when he made it further into the house. 

He made his way to the kitchen where he sat on the floor in his kitchen, back to the cupboards.  Q stared at the gun in his hands.  When the week began he had no intention to commit treason.  The only person more loyal to MI6 than Q was Bond.  But in the end, intellectual curiosity won out over his sense of duty.  While he did not regret his pursuit of knowledge, he would never be able to live with the guilt that it resulted in the deaths of so many agents. 

The moment 006 placed the technology on his desk he realized they may have another Silva on their hands.  The tech was obviously going to hack their system when he tried to analyze it.  After the Skyfall incident he was already on probation, having jumped ahead of protocol to analyze the laptop that let Silva escape right under their noses.  He resisted for a few days but the need to know how it worked finally wore him down so, late one night, he plugged it in thinking he could out-code the programming.  In the end, he did beat it but not before the personnel files of several field agents were sent to the enemy.  M received the first call about an agent down ten minutes before receiving Q’s message about the security breach.

When everything was done and the enemy terminated, five agents had lost their lives, Q was facing a treason hearing and Bond had been sent to parts unknown.  The last item was the one that told Q he was truly in trouble.  The relationship between 007 and the Quartermaster was the worst kept secret at an agency whose business was finding out secrets.  M had sent Bond away to keep him from the hearing.  Of this, Q was certain.  Only his duty to Queen and Country would keep Bond from defending him with his life if necessary.

It was obvious the committee had already made its decision.  Q knew it and Bond probably knew it too.  Now it was just a matter of time.  There was only one punishment for treason.  Q could choose to wait for the committee’s official decision but he always preferred to do things his own way.

 “I’m sorry, James,” he whispered, tears streaming silently down his face as he brought the gun up and pulled the trigger.


	21. Tickle Fight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For Snogandagrope, whose prompt was: tickle fight

It began innocently enough.  A rare day off for two of MI6’s finest did not coincide with one of London’s even rarer sunny days.  Instead of going out and doing something productive, James and Cris were lounging on the couch while the rain poured down outside.  James was reclined on the couch with his feet in Cris’ lap, reading one of those spy novels Cris liked to tease him about. (“How can you read those?  You of all people know how inaccurate they are.”)  Cris had placed his laptop on the floor and was currently playing with one of his mobiles.  (“You do realize today is your day off?”  “Piss off, James.”)

Holding the phone in one hand, Cris rested his other on James’ ankles, mindlessly running his fingers along the top of his feet.  As his fingers trailed to the bottom of James’ toes, the older man jumped from the couch, his book dropping to the floor in his haste.  “Stop it,” he growled, throwing himself down in an armchair, feet tucked underneath him.

“James, dear, don’t tell me you are ticklish?  Interesting.”  A devilish look had come into his eyes as he set the phone down.

“Don’t even think about it, darling,” James sneered, placing extra emphasis on the last word. 

“Wouldn’t dream of it, love.”

The next day found them back at work, and by some minor miracle Bond caught Q on his own in Q-Branch for five minutes.  They talked while Q held his tea with one hand, stopping a corrupt corporation with the other.  Hearing some interns making their way back from the break room, Bond stepped forward and kissed Q quickly.  “I’ll see you after work,” he whispered, pushing a stray curl back over Q’s ear.  The man nearly dropped his tea, eyes getting huge as he twisted away from Bond’s touch.  “Bond,” he warned.

“Ah! So Q is vulnerable after all,” the agent chuckled as he walked away. 

Q muttered, “Shit!” under his breath and braced himself for what was to come.

Over the next week, Bond found every excuse he could to touch Q.  A piece of lint.  A stray curl.  Earpiece wasn’t straight.  Every time Q jumped, or cursed, or dropped a piece of expensive equipment while Bond laughed and walked away.  “I’ll get you for that, 007,” was all Q said though he made no effort to actually retaliate.

At home it was even worse with James discovering several other previously unknown ticklish spots on his young lover’s body.  One night that found Cris curled in bed around his laptop, glaring daggers at James whenever he came within four feet.  Cris finally said, “You have one chance to apologize, love.”  James simply laughed and Cris’ mind was made up.

James noticed nothing out of place when he slipped from their bed and their flat early the next morning.  Cris was not morning person, preferring to work all hours of the night while James enjoyed his early morning workouts.  Cris had given him a sleepy good morning kiss before drifting back to sleep and James thought all was right in their world.

He pushed himself extra hard in his workout that morning, every thought of his 11AM monthly psych eval motivating him a bit more.  Slipping into his traditional suit, he arrived for the appointment relaxed and confident.

The first sign that something was wrong was when he sat down and thought he felt a rock in his shoe.  He tried to concentrate on the ridiculous word association exercise but the pebble was bothering him and seemed to be moving.  It didn’t take long for him to realize what was happening as the stimulus on the bottom of his foot picked up speed and he developed a thin sheen of sweat from the sheer force of will it took to hold himself still and not laugh out loud.

“007, are you alright?” the psychologist asked upon noticing his discomfort.

Not able to take it anymore, he ripped his shoes off, throwing them across the room yelling “No!” while pulling his feet up underneath him to get them farther from the cursed apparel.

Q simply smirked when Bond stalked toward him at their typical lunch time, shoes in hand and in stockinged feet.  “A problem, 007?” he asked, struggling to keep the amusement out of his voice as Bond slapped the shoes down on his desk.

“Do you know what my file now says thanks to these contraptions?” Bond growled, looking so dangerous that most of the technicians unconsciously took a step back.

Shaking his head, Q asked, “007 has atrocious taste in footwear?”

“No,” Bond grunted leaning right into Q’s personal space.  “I believe the exact phrasing was ‘Agent 007 exhibits an undeniable fear of shoes.  He also expresses the belief that the Quartermaster is trying to kill him.  Recommend Q be kept away from James Bond until his paranoia is under control.’”

“Well, at least it’s just a recommendation.”  Q’s smile turned from innocent to devious in a flash.  “But I did warn you.  All you had to do was apologize.”  He took the shoes and placed them in a drawer, knowing that the knowledge that they still existed would keep Bond in check.  At least for a few days.


	22. Drugged Q

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For dreamy-nodd's prompt: Q is drugged, Bond has to keep an eye on him, even when they are in the middle of nowhere in an almost desolated motel and they have to share a room with only a bank and a double bed

“You have fabulous eyes.  Has anyone ever told you that?” Q slurred from his place in the backseat.  This had been going on for the last hour since 007 had rescued him.  Leave it to Q to get kidnapped to the middle of North Dakota without a decent hotel or pub in sight.  As the sun began to set and Q continued in his drugged ramblings, Bond gave up his search for quality lodgings and settled for the first one they came across, a run-down old motel in the middle of nowhere.

Leaving the Quartermaster in the car, Bond rented a room for them.  As much as he would like to give the younger man some privacy, his current condition meant that he couldn’t be left alone for an extended period of time.   Because of this he hurried the desk clerk along before he returned to find Q half conscious and still muttering about Bond’s eyes.  The agent stifled a laugh when he realized the man was attempting poetry, swearing to record it on his phone if possible when they got to the room.  The tone turned sing songy as they walked across the parking lot, “James and Cris sitting in a tree.  K-I-S-S-I-N-G.”  Bond wondered if he wanted to know who this Cris was and decided it was best not to know.

The moment they entered the room, Q stumbled to the bed, collapsing face first into unconsciousness.  THE bed.  Not A bed.  Bond was certain he had requested two but in his haste to get back out to the quartermaster perhaps he wasn’t clear enough.  He thought about going back to switch the room but moving Q seemed to be an unnecessary task.  They were grown men.  This would be fine.  Running his hand through his hair, he hoped he was right.

While Q slept, Bond called and checked in, knowing Eve would kill him if he didn’t let her know Q was safe as soon as possible.  As his exhaustion began to take him, he stepped out of his suit, laying it on a chair, and climbed into bed in his pants and vest after removing Q’s shoes and socks.  He quickly fell asleep, Q snoring softly beside him. 

Hours later, Bond woke to the feeling of being bound.  Opening his eyes, he found himself to be completely wrapped up in the arms and legs of the head of Q-Branch.  The man had wrapped himself around Bond like a skinny octopus, Q’s face buried in his neck so that his hair was tickling Bond’s face.  Aside from hurting the man, James couldn’t seem to find a way out of this particular situation and sighed loudly before falling back to sleep.

The sun shining through a hole in the worn curtains woke James who found himself still tangled in the ridiculously long limbs of Q.  In the process of moving to extricate himself from the embrace, Q awoke with a horror struck look when he realized the position he was in.  “Bond!  I’m sorry!  I…I don’t know what is going on.”  Bond had to laugh as he watched Q look from his own fully clothed body to Bond’s almost nude form and back.  If Q’s eyes seem to darken as they looked over Bond, it was probably just the after effects of the drugs in his system.”

“You were kidnapped and drugged.  We are somewhere in North Dakota.  Only you could get kidnapped to the most boring place on earth.”  Bond shook his head as he pulled his suit back on.  “If we hurry, we can catch the next flight to London.”

Q’s eyes widened, “That’s why they drugged me in the first place.  I had such a panic attack on the plan they were afraid I was going to bring the whole thing down.  They sedated me and must have found me easier to deal with when I had the drugs in my system.”

Bond laughed, “I’m not sure about easier to deal with but far more entertaining.  And don’t worry, Medical gave me sedatives for you that won’t leave you quite so…loopy.”

“Oh god, what did I say?” the Quartermaster asked, head in his hands.  “Do I even want to know?”

Bond tossed his shoes and socks over to him before stooping to put on his own.  “I was treated to an hour long soliloquy about how gorgeous my eyes are, followed by some poetry and finally a lovely song about me and someone named Cris kissing.   Remember any of it?”

Q simply shook his head, resigned to his fate, “I’m never living this down, am I?”

“Not on your life,” the agent replied with an evil grin.

 


	23. Skiing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For the prompt: Q and James are skiing (for some reason) in the Alps. James being all professional and Q....not so professional.

“James.  I am beginning to reconsider just how fine I was with this idea.”  Standing on top of a mountain, in sub-zero temperatures?  How was this anyone’s idea of a good time?  “James.  I can’t do it.”

James sighed.  He had finally gotten Q out of his lab.  Finally found location where they could take a holiday, just the two of them that did not require drugging Q to within an inch of his life to get him onto a plane.  So here they were in Switzerland, supposed to be having a good time.  Never once did it occur to him that Q’s fear of planes related to a fear of heights.  He had never actually met someone who didn’t know how to ski and when the man didn’t correct him….

Sidestepping back up the hill to where Q sat in the snow, knees up near his chin, looking more miserable than anyone on holiday in the Swiss Alps had any right to.  Sitting next to him, James threw an arm around him.  “You don’t know how to ski, do you?”  Q shook his head.  “And you’re scared of heights, aren’t you?”  He just looked miserable, resting his head on James’ shoulder.  “Why didn’t you tell me?”  Q just shrugged.

James turned to kiss the younger man.  “First we need to get you down the mountain.  Then a drink.  Deal?” 

“Thanks, love,” Q said softly.  “I should have told you but it’s embarrassing.  You aren’t afraid of anything.  I didn’t want to admit another weakness.”

James stood, pulling Q to his feet as well.  “Cris,” he said, using Q’s real name for one of the first times, “you are not weak.  And you don’t have to hide from me.”

Skiing ahead a bit, he stopped and turned to look at Q.  “Okay, just focus on me and get this far.”  Q stubbornly shook his head, his eyes automatically going well past James and straight down the side of the mountain.”

“Crispin!  Look at me.  Not the mountain.  Just get right here and don’t worry about the rest.”  Very slowly, Q inched forward until he was standing next to James again.  Giving him a quick kiss, Bond took off again, this time several meters farther and encouraged Q to make his way down to him.

With each interval he kissed Q chastely before taking off again.  It took almost an hour but soon they found themselves at the bottom of the mountain, Q literally trembling in Bond’s arms. 

“It’s alright,” James murmured, feeling relieved that they had finally made it down and bad for not realizing Q’s fears earlier.  “You were wrong you know?” he said softly, causing Q to look back, a derisive expression on his face.

“I’m rarely wrong, Bond,” he smirked, knowing the truth behind his words.

James rolled his eyes.  “True, but in this case you are wrong.  I am afraid of some things.  I’m afraid of dying and leaving you behind.  I’m really afraid of you having to watch or listen when it happens.  I’m afraid of losing you, driving you away somehow.  And I’m terrified of snakes but no one else needs to know that.”

Q couldn’t stop the laugh that bubbled up from inside his chest, his heart rate finally returning to normal.  “’Snakes!  Why does it always have to be snakes?’” he chuckled, kissing James on the lips.  “Ok, from now on, you save me from heights and I save you from snakes.  Deal?”

James nodded and held him close.  “I love you, Cris.  I don’t care if you are afraid of anything.  Just trust me that I will love you no matter what.”

“I love you too, James.   And I promise, I will trust you enough to tell you from now on.  Now, how about that drink?”


	24. Miscommunication

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For the anon prompt: During a mission Bond is almost killes and Q hears everything but then the connection breaks. Q keeps talking though confessing his love to Bond thinking the radio is off, otherwise he wouldn’t have said a thing fearing Bond wouldn’t be interested in him. bond of course did hear him

“007!  007, do you read me?”  Q’s heart rate picked up as he listened to the silence on the other end.  His mind gripped the silence, held on tight.  If James had actually been killed, Q would have heard more.  A body hitting the floor.  The sound of his killers moving around.  The general aural detritus of modern life.  Instead there had been shots, the gut wrenching moan, and then silence.  A disconnected line, nothing more.

Even as Tanner and M went back to their offices, Q stayed in his department, listening to Eve’s chatter and trying to keep his mind occupied.  Still straining to hear anything, it took him a moment to realize what Eve was asking.

“Hmm?” he hummed, typing on his computer and trying to look like his mind wasn’t a thousand miles away.

Eve put her hands on her hips, “Oh come off it.”  She glared at him even as her lips turned up at the corners, “Why don’t you just tell him how you feel?”

Q sighed, a sound of one perpetually annoyed by busybody best friends.  “Have you not been paying attention, Moneypenny?  It appears James is dead again,” he quipped though it physically pained him to say the words.  “What good does it do now?  What do you want me to do?  Yell to the heavens that I love James Bond?  Dead or alive, that isn’t something he is going to care to hear.  Because he is James Bond.  And I’m me.”

Eve rolled her eyes and tapped her foot, “Don’t make me shoot you, Q.  That is ridiculous and you know it.”

Q waved off her comment and went back to his work, the conversation soon pushed from his mind by the intricate coding.

James Bond survived.  Of course he did.  He had a talent for resurrection, proving that once more by walking into MI6 after seventeen days.  M berated him.  Eve gave him a shove and then a hug.  Med actually managed to examine him and even Tanner gave him a nod as 007 walked by.

Finally he arrived in Q-Branch, dropping a few pieces of the Walther and the ear piece on Q’s desk.  Q arched an eyebrow over his glasses but otherwise remained impassive.  “Well, better than I anticipated,” he muttered, sweeping the Walther bits into a drawer to be dealt with at a later time.  Picking up the ear piece, he looked it over, turning it on to discover it functioning properly.  “I thought this was broken,” he said after a moment, feeling confused.

“Not broken.  Just muted,” Bond replied, smiling knowingly at Q as if he was waiting for something.  Q started back until the memory of his conversation with Eve came back to him.  Blood drained from his face as he glared at Bond, horror struck.

James handed him a note card with a restaurant name and a time on it.  “See you there?” he asked as he turned to walk away.

Q, flustered and embarrassed, spluttered, “Wait.  What?  Why?  What?”

Bond shrugged and kept walking, “Because you are you, I am James Bond, and that was something I did care to hear.”  He paused and glanced at Q over his shoulder, a genuine smile on his face, “And I love you too.”


	25. Chapter 25

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For the prompt from dreamy-nodd: Q goes to the underground station after a long day of work, it's around midnight and it's totally quiet, he's very tired and sits down on a seat, waiting for the metro to arrive,, then a couple of big guys notice him and going to bother him, because he is so thin, the guys can easily overpower Q, but then Bond arrives ...

Q was exhausted to the point that even his bones ached. Four days without sleep were quickly catching up with him and as much as he wanted to wait for his lover, James had several more hours of debriefing to get through. In the end, the idea of sleep won out and Q found himself in a nearly abandoned tube station waiting for the train.

Sitting on a bench, Q let his head drop back against the wall and his eyes fell closed without his permission. He wasn’t sure how long he had been asleep when he was roughly pulled to his feet by a large man who was accompanied by three others.

"What have we got here?" one of the men asked, his gruff voice almost too stereotypical for Q to take seriously. "Pretty boy get lost? Didn’t think your mum would let you stay out this late on a school night?"

Not even attempting to stop himself from rolling his eyes, Q shook his head in mock despair, “Is this really what has become of crime in this city? A far cry from my day.”

The man holding him slammed him against the wall and Q heard as much as felt his head crack against the brick. ”It doesn’t seem like you are in any position to complain, boy.”

Q’s head ached yet he continued as if he had no injury, “Actually, you are the ones in the vulnerable position. I am, by far, the last person you want to be messing with. If you valued your lives, you would walk away now.”

"Or what? You going to talk us to death?" The men laughed as if this was the funniest thing in the world and Q took his opportunity. When they looked back, he had the barrel of his weapon pressed to the forehead of the man who was holding him. 

With a sigh, he cocked the weapon, “I do so hate to use this. The paperwork for discharging a weapon and killing civilians is too much hassle.” A smirk came to his face, “Strangely enough though, my boyfriend has no such issue when it comes to that.”

The confused looks on the men’s faces turned to pain as James took them each out one by one, a fist to the throat, broken shoulder, broken ribs. Q smiled beatifically at the man he still held at gun point. ”Next time you decide to rough up someone you see at a tube station, make sure his boyfriend isn’t a licensed killer first.” Q brought the butt of the gun down on the man’s temple, knocking him unconscious. 

Turning to smile at James, he leaned over the moaning and unconscious men, “What are you doing here, love? I thought you had a few more hours.”

"The idea of bed with you was more interesting than a meeting with M and Tanner. Shall I call Bill to get this cleaned up and we can go home, kitten?"

Q rolled his eyes at the endearment and stepped over his attackers, “That would be lovely,” he sighed wrapping an arm around James’ waist and resting his throbbing head on the agent’s shoulders. ”You know I could have taken care of it.”

James just smirked and kissed Q’s forehead, “I know you could have. But I was there and I know how much you hate paperwork.”

"I love you too, James. Let’s go home."


	26. Chapter 26

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For the prompt: After waking up in Q’s bed James finds Mycroft sitting in the kitchen, waiting for him.

Rubbing his eyes, James blinked at the bright light.  There were several things very wrong.  This wasn’t his room.  He was unsure where his weapon had been placed.  And there was someone very warm wrapped around him under the duvet.  Unable to remember who he had gone home with the night before, James glanced under the blanket, only to be met with a tangle of soft, dark hair.  He smiled as the memories came flooding back.  His Quartermaster, Cris, long and lean in his arms.  Narrow, nearly feminine hips but every other part undeniably masculine.  The delicious noises and the confident movements that drove James insane.  He had never had a lover quite like Q and he smiled as he kissed that mess of hair.

Q stirred slightly before settling against James’ chest once more with a contented purr.  James chuckled and kissed his head again.  “Kitten,” he murmured fondly as he slipped out from under Q to make his way to the kitchen for some water.  Not bothering with pants, James walked down the hall, admiring the books and art he had been too distracted to take in the night before.

Stepping into the kitchen, Bond almost immediately regretted his decision to leave the room nude when he encountered a tall, posh man with a brolly sitting at the table.  Scrambling to a coat rack he saw be the door, James pulled on a coat that at least covered the important bits.  He returned to the kitchen, unarmed but ready to defend Q and himself if necessary.

"Who are you and why are you here?" he demanded, wracking his brain for anything Cris may have said about having a flatmate.  

The posh man simply raised an eyebrow and responded, “Just checking up on my investment.  I do hate to think he has fallen into the wrong hands.”  

That comment confused James and he leaned against the doorway, sizing up the man.  He was obviously from money, even without the comment about his investment.  He felt some sort of ownership and James’ mind settled on him being the man Cris leased his flat from.  Still there was something familiar about him that nagged at the back of James’ mind.  ”As you can see, he is meticulous in everything he does.”   _Everything_  his brain emphasized silently.  ”I don’t think you need to worry about your return at all.”

When the man opened his mouth to speak, James felt Cris wrap his arms around James’ waist from behind.  He must have felt James tension because he quickly looked over James’ shoulder and sighed heavily.  ”Mycroft.  You can’t let yourself in whenever you want.  And you can’t scare this one off.  He could kill you.”  James could hear the smirk in Q’s voice and he turned to look at his lover, the obvious question written on his face.  ”He didn’t introduce himself, did he?” Q said, shaking his head.  ”James Bond, meet Mycroft Holmes, my brother.”


	27. Chapter 27

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For tigresevaddict's prompt: I have one idea maybe a sequel at the meeting between Mycroft & James. Why not the meeting with Sherlock now (with maybe John too) :)

James and Q settled into a routine, James going off on his missions but always returning to his Quartermaster and lover.  After that first uncomfortable meeting with his boyfriend’s older brother, James thought the surprise family introductions were past him.  After all, Q never mentioned any more family.  So the day he walked into their flat to find Q arguing with a man who looked like an older version of himself, James was tempted to turn around and walk back to work.  He would have also, if he hadn’t noticed the shorter blond man sitting on the sofa.  

Grabbing two beers from the fridge, he walked in and handed one to the other guy.  “Hello,” he said quietly, trying not to draw Q or the other dark haired man’s attention.  “I’m Bond.  James Bond.  And you are?”

“John Watson,” the bloke replied, taking the bottle with a grin.  “So you are the one who managed to tame Crispin, hmm?  I’ve heard a lot about you.  Never your name though. That massive git couldn’t come up with it and Cris certainly wasn’t telling.”

James couldn’t keep up with the train of thought and let his eyes drift back to the two arguing men.  “Pardon, but I don’t know who you are or why you are here.”

With a sigh, John yelled over at Q, “Crispin, you prat!  Forgot to mention that you had family to lover boy here?”  James bristled at the nickname and Cris looked infurirated.

“I didn’t see the point.  I keep myself distant for a reason.  And after Mycroft’s appearance the first night, I really didn’t see the point in mentioning the middle brother as well.  But fine, James, meet my brother Sherlock.  And his partner John.  Sherlock and John, this is James.  Now, get out.”

Neither Sherlock nor John moved and Q just huffed and stared at them.  Sensing a stand off, James stood and asked, “What is the major problem here?  What can I do to get you out of our home so I can have time with Q?”

Sherlock rolled his eyes at calling Cris Q and responded, “Well, if Q would just agree to bring you to meet Mummy, we will leave.  But it turns out that he is as stubborn as our other brother.  And if Mummy is going to keep berating me about not having met the lovely man who had captured dear Crispin’s heart, then I am going to stay until Cris solves the problem for me.  So what will it be, brother?”

The apology was written all over Q’s face when he glanced at James before grumbling, “Fine, we’ll see you at family dinner.  Sunday.”  His lips quirked when he turned to look back at his brother, “If I have to do this, then so do you.  Don’t you think it’s time dear Mummy learned of your John here?”

Sherlock’s face hardened and James sighed, throwing himself onto the sofa and taking a long drink of his beer.  He could see this was going to take a while.  John just looked over at him and laughed.


	28. Bond Knew

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For bowsie22's prompt: lease, can you do a follow up to Q's suicide in James' POV?
> 
> Obviously, ANGST AHEAD. Trigger warnings for suicide and major character death. 
> 
> See chapter 20 for the first part.

_Bond knew._   The timing was all too convenient.  Q’s mistake, the loss of the agents, the hearing and Bond’s sudden deployment.  The decision had been made before he set foot on the jet.  Bond had tried to argue with M but was met with a stony silence and a new mission he would be lucky to survive.  There wasn’t even time to say goodbye to Q.  He only hoped it wouldn’t be too late when he got back.

 _Bond knew._   The moment he walked in the door.  He didn’t need to see the note.  All the warmth had left the flat, there was nothing but loneliness and despair.  Against his better judgement, he continued into the flat, blood running cold at the sight he knew awaited him.  James dropped to his knees, holding the lifeless shell which was once the man he loved so much.  He didn’t cry.  He didn’t wail.  But six hours later, when MI6 came to collect the body, Bond still knelt there, Q held tight to his chest, face pressed to Q’s soft hair.

 _Bond knew._   He heard what they said about him.  He was a robot.,  A machine.  He had no emotions, no connections.  It was what made him the perfect agent.  Lethal, qualmless, and with nothing to lose.  His missions got riskier.  He took more chances.  Because what they said was right, he had nothing left to fight for.

 _Bond knew_ _._   They were wrong. He felt emotions.  He wasn’t a machine.  He had loved deeply, twice, and both times it had been taken away.  Once because of her own actions and once at his loved one’s own hand.  No one got out of the spy business alive.  It was something he counted on.  Because if there was one thing Bond knew, it was when that bullet finally succeeded where so many others had failed, there would be sparkling green eyes, a mop of black hair and a dry sense of humour to welcome him home with a hug and a “Well done, 007.”


	29. Chapter 29

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For the prompt: If you are still taking prompts i would like to see James being insecure about his age compared with Q's. Thanks!

“What am I doing, Bill?” James asked, still nursing the same pint he had been drinking for the past hour.

Tanner shrugged, “I think you are having a really good time.  James, why do you keep questioning this.  Something, someone good has fallen into your hands.  Enjoy it.”

Sighing, James shook his head, “But he’s so young.”  It was one thing to pull marks, regardless of their age.  But Q was different.  James cared about him in a way that he hadn’t cared about another person since Vesper.  And while Q was a genius when it came to technology, Bond worried about how much experience he had with relationships.

“He’s not that much younger then you,” Bill pointed out.  “Ten years, maybe twelve.”

“Twelve years!  Do you understand what a big difference that is?  How much life I had lived before he was ever born?”

Bill barely resisted rolling his eyes, “This has nothing to do with his age and you know it.  You, James Bond, are a commitment phobe.”

“Is that so?” Bond sneered, knocking back the last of his beer.  “I committed to _her_  just fine, I will have you remember.”

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Tanner groaned.  “Can you even hear yourself?  One, you can’t even say Vesper’s name, even now.  Two, she betrayed you and then died.  If you don’t think that left you a little gun shy, then you need to head back to Psych.  And three, Vesper was the same age as Q so if you could commit to her, you can commit to him.”  Folding his hands on the table, Bill sighed, “He isn’t Vesper, James.  He isn’t going to betray you.  Just relax and be happy someone besides me will voluntarily spent time with you.”

James was silent for a long time, head in his hands as he considered Tanner’s words.  He was fearful.  He couldn’t lose his heart.  But he couldn’t lose Q.  It took him an embarrassingly long time to realize he had already lost his heart.  To Q.  “And how do I know if he feels the same way?” he asked, head still facing the table.

“You could always ask him,” Tanner suggested as a third person slid into the booth.

Q wrapped an arm around James’ shoulder and kissed his cheek, “I do love you.  Old man.”


	30. Yet Another Birthday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For the prompt from madwriterscorner: A day in the life of James and Cris as a cute retired old couple.

After nearly forty years together, Cris felt his seventy fifth birthday quickly approaching. James had been retired not long after they got together and both decided that London living was not for them. In what would have been a strange turn of events if it involved anyone besides a retired double oh agent and the former quartermaster of MI6, the house Cris grew up in went on the market only days after they decided to find a family home for them. It was easy work to purchase the house and within a month they were relocated to Leeds, settling into Cris’ childhood house.

After retirement, the children came along. They adopted three beautiful girls and a handsome boy who filled their home with laughter and more messes than either of the fellow MI6 operatives could ever have expected. Beatrice was like a little mother to the rest of the kids. Gemma was a Papa’s girl, often found curled up in a chair with Cris, reading books and discussing far off, magical lands. Abby was James’ shadow, the most adventurous and the one who kept them on their toes. Finally, after three girls, little Benjamin came along, creating all sorts of new headaches for James and Cris but much more love as well. Many nights, James and Cris would look in at their sleeping children and wonder at how this was their life.

The children grew and moved on, marrying and having families of their own. The two men enjoyed when the grandkids came over, reminding them of the early days with their own family. But they relished the quiet when it was just them as well. Cris teased James when he put rocking chairs on the porch, calling him an old man though there was another old man who looked back at him each day in the mirror. Salt and pepper hair my arse, Cris thought miserably to himself. What used to be a head full of lush black hair was now mostly white with only the occasional strand of black mixed in. James no longer moved as quickly as he once had yet his eyes still sparkled whenever they looked at his husband.

On the day of Cris’ birthday, it started like any other, the two old men curled together in a bed they had shared for what felt like forever. Cris still fit perfectly in James’ arms though both men’s bodies had softened a little with age. Cris wasn’t expecting much. After seventy five years, birthdays just didn’t seem that important. He and James were healthy, their kids were healthy. That was all he wanted. 

James of course had other ideas and it was around noon that Bea, her husband and their kids arrived. Cris sat and told the grandkids is favourite stories while Bea helped James get the cake out. Soon enough, the whole family had gathered for a picnic on their lawn and Cris couldn’t help but smile at how blessed he was. 

That night, James held Cris close on the couch, his withered lips kissing Cris’ grey hair softly, “Happy Birthday my darling. I think we have a few more in us, don’t you?”

“At least another decade,” Cris smiled, content and happy. “Did you ever think we would be here? Fathers, grandfathers, aging as gracefully as possible instead of dying young and tragically?”

James shook his head, “Never allowed myself to hope for such a thing before you came along. I always knew I would die young. It’s just that now, young feels like about ninety five instead of forty.” 

Chuckling, Cris nodded, “Good. And not a second before that.”

Cris helped James to his feet, the former agent’s arthritis making it difficult for him to move the way he used to. They both took their various medications and slipped into bed. Even at that age, they still made love before falling asleep, limbs tangled and hearts full. 

It had been a day, and a life, neither could have dreamt of all those years ago and one they neither could live without now. Just the way they felt about each other.


	31. As Simple As Pushing a Button

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For the prompt from q--uartermaster: Q kills the man who was about to murder 007 with a simple press of keys, and James realizes that he might have underestimated the dark side of his Quartermaster.

Cris was fuming. He could not find a single thing that he liked about this mission and it just kept getting worse. It should have been a simple retrieval, something even a rookie field agent could handle. But instead of sending one of the new kids, M sent James...on their anniversary and James had agreed without a fight. Q was not happy.

After that, things just went pear shaped as things were apt to do when James was involved. Turned out the simple retrieval was a lot more complicated than that and though Q never showed his stress on the outside, inside he felt as if he were being torn to pieces. He watched the little red dot that signified Bond as if his life depended on it, breathing a sigh of relief whenever that blonde head that Q knew so well passed the CCTV cameras he had hacked into.

And then the shot rang out. Q felt the shot as clearly as if he had been the target. Suddenly James wasn’t moving and the vital signs on him were dropping steadily. This was not how their day was supposed to go. There was supposed to be dinner and wine, the symphony, a shag in the back of the Aston. THose were the places James was supposed to be, not bleeding out in some bloody office building in Rio.

Seeing red, Cris got to work, his eyes narrow and his fingers flying over the keyboard as code flowed from his mind to his screen. The technicians had never seen their boss so angry, not even the time 004 thought it would be funny to replace all of the Earl Grey in Q-Branch with Irish Breakfast. 

“Q...” Bond’s voice sounded through the coms and Cris could have cried from how broken he sounded. “I’m not-”

“Don’t even say it, James,” Q growled, looking even more pissed off. “I expect you back here in the morning and I am not taking no for an answer.”

As he spoke, Cris saw a gunman heading James direction. There was no way that evac would get there in time and James was out of ammunition. There was a chance he could fight but most likely the mark would shoot him before James had a chance.

“It’s my fucking anniversary,” Cris screamed, causing everyone in the room, including Tanner and M to take and involuntary step back. On the screen the man with the weapon took one more step and then started convulsing, dropping to the floor after a second, dead. On other screens, the MI6 agents and technicians could only watch with a great deal of awe and a small amount of horror as everyone else in the building suffered the same fate. All of them except James.

Sighing, Cris’ face relaxed and he nearly smiled when he opened the coms once more. “James, evac will be there in two minutes. Hold on. And if that was the suit you were planning on wearing to the symphony, I think we will need to schedule a date with the tailor before we trade in the tickets.”

James laughed but there was still some stress in his voice, “The others can still get here Q. I’m not safe yet.”

“Like hell you are. I changed the current in the electrical system in the building. Anyone near an electrical appliance or outlet was just electrocuted. I turned off everything near you though. You are the only living thing in that building, James. I’m not letting you out of dinner that easily.”

“You just want me to fuck you in the back of the car,” James laughed, voice sounding strained but amused. M cleared his throat and several technicians tried to hide their chuckles behind their hands.

“Open coms, dear, but yes. That is the plan. Get back here so I can yell at you and M at the same time. Next year, you get this day off.”


	32. Burma

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For madwriterscorner: Valentine's Day

Cris never approved of Valentine’s day.  It was commercialized holiday that was marketed to heterosexual couples in an effort to get them to spend their money on things that they didn’t need or want just to prove that one day a year that they were loved by someone.  If he really thought about it, he was a bit bitter about the whole thing having never had a Valentine of his own (unless you counted his mum when he was little but Cris was pretty sure that didn’t count).

But the year that Cris met James Bond, things seemed a little different.  He wasn’t moody and miserable the week leading up to the holiday and was nearly pleasant.  (Nearly, people don’t change _THAT_  quickly.)  The day before he had been nearly bouncy with excitement, wondering what James might do for him on the romantic holiday of the year.  Of course, that night James was sent to Burma and Cris found himself waking to an empty bed with only a note on the pillow beside him.

_Late night call from M.  Going to Burma.  Back soon. –JBx_

Like that, Cris’ good mood was gone and he sullenly got ready and went to work, the sour expression never leaving his face.  M had blocked him out of James’ mission and while he could easily access the information, he didn’t see a reason to do so.  The minions steered clear, afraid to be the one whose head was bitten off by an angry Quartermaster.  He worked late into the night, fixing and tinkering with various things in the work room and not really talking to anyone else. 

When he finally looked up, everyone was gone and the branch was silent and dark.  Sighing, Q finally let his head fall forward, blinking furiously against the tears that threatened to fall.  He had just wanted one day, one Valentine’s Day that actually was like what they portray in films and telly.  But it wasn’t meant to be. 

Standing there, head still down, Cris jumped as he felt warm lips press to the nape of his neck.  “You didn’t think I would forget did you?” came James’ deep voice and Cris nearly cried from relief.

“Actually, I did,” he quipped, though his voice didn’t hold its usual sarcastic tone.  “You have a reputation for being an arse.”

Cris felt the chuckle more than he heard it and James’ arms wrapped around him from behind, “Perhaps.  But we have opera tickets and you are not dressed properly.  Your suit is in the office.”

Spinning around, Cris looked at him, puzzled, “What about Burma?”

“Alec will take care of it.  He owed me anyway.  I had something more important to do tonight.”


	33. A Fine Line Between Love and Hate || OmegaVerse, MPreg

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For the prompt from otpprompts: Your OTP ‘hate’ each other and always annoy each other when they’re around friends/whoever. However, secretly they are lovers and they have to keep up the dislike so their friends don’t find out. That is, until, Person A finds out they’re pregnant…

"Fucking twat," Q mumbled, glaring at the back retreating from his department.  Once again 007 had returned nothing but a few scraps from all the delicately crafted equipment that Q-Branch had made for him.  It was all Q could do not to throw the bits and pieces at the man's head but he knew Bond would enjoy that too much.  Prat.

Q-Branch didn't even look up at their boss' exclamation.  There was only one person who was able to draw such ire from the Quartermaster so even if they hadn't seen him, they would have known James Bond was somewhere in the building.  The animosity between the two was palpable and they had bets on how long it would be before Q finally gave in and shot the man properly.  Odds had it at two months more or within one week of the time when Q lost his temper and punched the agent.  

It had started after James got back from his R&R following the events of Skyfall.  Something had clicked inside him and the old Bond was back; the one who bedded every woman he met, who drank too much and spoke like someone out of an old spy novel.  He was an Alpha to the highest degree and most of Q-Branch had equal parts lust and fear for the man which seemed to be just the way James wanted it.  Q was the only holdout, which also appeared to suit Bond just fine considering he went out of his way to make sure the Omega was always upset with him for good reason.  

On Q's side, it was the gun fed to a Komodo Dragon that started the whole thing.  He did what he needed to to keep the agent alive but that didn't mean he had to like the man or put up with his idiosyncrasies.  He screamed for the agent to get out of Q-Branch whenever Bond was chatting up an intern.  He gave him hand-me-down equipment when it became clear that nothing handed to 007 was ever coming back.  It was a hate-hate relationship and no one even questioned the dynamic anymore.

"Good morning," Bond greeted, sliding into the department as if he owned it one morning.  Q wasn't in yet which meant everyone could enjoy the terrifying agent without having to deal with their terrifying supervisor as well.  "I see the queen hasn't made it in yet.  When he does, tell him I'm waiting for him in his office."  With that, Bond strode across the bunker to Q's little used private office.  Most of the technicians could count on one hand the number of times they had seen Q use the office and every time had involved M.  For Bond to walk in there was presumption of the highest level.  Whatever was about to happen, they know it was going to be good entertainment for them.

Q arrived twenty minutes late, looking a little under the weather and the techs were concerned that with whatever was ailing him, he wasn't in the condition to deal with 007 as well.  R approached after it became clear no one else was brave enough to do so.  "Are you alright, Q?  You don't look well."  

"Yeah," was the mumbled answer and Q ran his hand through his hair, looking anything but okay.  "I, um, I need to see 007 this morning.  Has he been in yet?"

R looked taken aback, brows raised to the middle of his forehead in surprise.  "Yes, actually.  He's in your office waiting for you."

"Good," the quartermaster growled and stormed off to the other room.  Looks were exchanged and in a subtly that spoke of small children and not trained spies, half the department stampeded to the door to hear what was about to happen.  

Not that they needed to be close.  Q's words echoed through the branch, even with the door closed.  "This is your bloody fault you absolute prat!  What were you thinking?  You knew!  You knew this could happen and did it anyway!  Now what am I going to do?"

Bond's words were too muffled to be made out clearly but they were certain they heard the phrase "enjoyed it" and a sense of smug satisfaction.  

"Of course I fucking enjoyed it.  That isn't the point.  The point is, what do I do now?  I can't very well go out there and tell them that I'm... That we...  I’m not losing my job over this, James!"  His voice shook and the techs exchanged uncomfortable glances; whatever was going on was more serious than they originally believed.

More muffled words from the agent and a heavy sigh from the quartermaster.  Q's words were also muffled and everything got quiet after that.  Ten minutes later when only soft, unintelligible voices could be heard, Q-Branch had returned to work, wondering which man was going to walk out of there alive.

It came as a surprise when thirty minutes after Q had entered, both exited looking no worse for the wear.  Q's jumper was a bit rumpled and James' hair stood on end on one side.  If the department didn't know better, they would say that there was something going on between the two of them.  However, they had been in the middle of more fights between 007 and Q to know that their relationship was built on equal parts animosity and disgust.  It amused them to think of what family life would be like for the two if there was something going on.  Probably nothing that was nailed down would be thrown at each other's heads on a daily basis.

Q nodded to his department and got back to work, rubbing his stomach self consciously as he did so.  This led to the newest theory that James Bond had punched his Quartermaster in the gut and slowly a plan began to formulate around Q-Branch in order to pay the agent back for hurting their beloved boss.  And Q was beloved.  He was the youngest Quartermaster in MI6 history and the only Omega to ever hold the position, every Q before having been a Beta.  It made him more sympathetic to his employees in many ways but he demanded excellence at all times.  The department was flourishing under him and his technicians and interns were willing to bend over backwards to comply with anything he asked of them.

It took a couple days before word of the plan against 007 reached Q's ears, a testament to how much they had learned working under him that they were able to keep it quiet for so long.  When he did hear about it, his glasses were removed and he pinched the bridge of his nose with a heavy sigh.  "I appreciate what you all are doing but I assure you it isn't necessary," he tried to explain but none of them would hear it, all arguing over one another that no one should be allowed to hurt him and they were only protecting Q from the agent.

"Ok, I can see that no one is going to listen to me when it comes to this.  R, would you do me the favour of tracking down Bond and bringing him in here.  I think it is time we had a talk."  This sounded ominous and while there was a degree of tension in the department at those words, anticipation hummed louder than anything else.

James took over twenty minutes before he made his appearance and Q rolled his eyes at him.  "You just can't even be bothered can you?  Or were you hoping I would get tired of waiting and I would do this by myself?" he snapped but there was a tone to his voice that none of them had heard before.  And was Q smiling?  AT BOND?  Tension began to build.

With a deep breath, Q rolled his shoulders and faced his employees, "I understand that for the last few days, the rumour has been going around that James punched me during our meeting on Monday.  I understand where you could get that idea but it could not be farther from the truth."  His hand went back to his stomach and he looked down, nearly smiling and one of the technicians in the back gasped as she figured out what the others had not yet deduced.  

However, when James stepped up and put an arm around Q's waist, everyone else fell into line.

"The truth is," James explained, "that Q and I are mated.  Over the weekend, Q discovered he is expecting our first kit.  As you can imagine, this has caused an amount of excitement and anxiety as we were not planning on this happening any time soon.  But I would appreciate you keeping this quiet while we figure out how to deal with this."

Silence resonated in the department as people thought about what had just been said.  It made no sense and finally someone spoke up, "Was this an arranged mating?  You two hate each other."

"It does seem that way, doesn't it?" Q laughed.  "The truth is that as a man and an alpha, I love James with all my heart.  As an agent, I think he is prat who needs to have his ears boxed in but that is work.  When we get home at night, I promise you, we love each other deeper than you can possibly imagine."  He looked over at James with such a look of love and devotion that no one who saw could question it.  And to see Bond looking back with such fondness, gently pushing a curl behind Q's ear and kissing him on the forehead was nearly as shocking.  Never taking his eyes from his mate, Q sighed happily, "Actually, considering we have no missions on the books for today, I'm going to leave R in charge and take the rest of the day off.  I would prefer to spend the day in love with my mate instead of screaming at him."  Bond chuckled and the department stared, still rather confused, as the two lovers shared a kiss and walked hand in hand from the bunker.


	34. Chapter 34

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For the prompt from obfuscatress: air bubbles under the ice. More Pre-00Q then actual shippiness.

Siberia of all places was not a location Q would have chosen to send 007.  The man could be slippery like an eel even with CCTV cameras on every corner.  Having vast amounts of space where there was no civilization or even humanity for miles just made Q’s job that much harder.  Because of this, he didn’t feel _too_ bad when he commandeered a satellite that happened to be in orbit overhead so he could keep track of his agent.

 A rogue agent, long thought dead, had reappeared and M dispatched 007 to take care of the problem once and for all.  The rogue and Bond had history which made Q apprehensive but he said nothing.  His job was to support the agent and when James readily agreed to the Siberia trip, who was Q to argue?  He outfitted James with the necessary gear and sent him on his way, but not without getting the aid of low orbiting cameras.

As per usual with 007, the mission went pear shaped quickly and Q was doing his best to keep tabs on the agent as they raced across the arctic tundra on snowmobiles, firing shots at each other as if the climate wasn’t likely to kill them both anyway.  And if on cue, the rogue made a hard right turn and Bond, doing his best to keep up, cut the turn to sharp and was thrown from the vehicle.  Q only had a moment to gasp before he realized that James had cracked the ice on a large pond.

M was watching behind him and muttered something about evac but in such a remote location, Q had no idea how they would get there in time.  Evac was ordered, on the off chance that they could make it.  The fall had rendered 007 unconscious and all of Q-Branch watched in horror as the highest ranking double oh agent at MI6 slowly sunk beneath the icy surface, the rogue getting away.  No one’s thoughts were on that as they watched large bubbles of air appear under the ice, slowing until no more could be seen.

Q sat for several more hours, satellite image on the full screen in the center of Q-Branch hoping that James got out.  The evacuation team arrived but could find nothing but 007’s weapon and snow mobile.  Combing the water turned up nothing in way of a body and while Q attempted to remain hopeful, knowing Bond’s penchant for resurrection, but he couldn’t fathom a way that even Bond could survive that.

Six weeks later, when the agent strolled into Q-Branch, depositing a drowned radio on Q’s desk, Q didn’t bother hiding his displeasure and punched the agent square in the jaw.  James simply smiled and walked away.  _Right bastard, that one_ , Q thought miserably but he couldn’t hide his joy that the man had survived once more.  Maybe 007 truly was unsinkable.


	35. The Myth

Some said it was a myth, a story like so many that followed in his wake. No one could ever remember seeing it for themselves but all knew a friend of a friend who had experienced it, swore the very image was life altering. 

When it came to describing it, words failed. ”There was a hint of…” some would say, trailing off into hand gestures. ”It was more of …” came others, twisting their face into an odd grimace that told nothing of what they were trying to convey.

For years, people talked of it while seeing no hard evidence. Sure, it existed on missions but it was false, part of a role to play, not the truth.

And then one day, it was there for all to see and no one was watching, all eyes focused on the dark haired genius and not the blond soldier. 

A slight turn of lips. A crinkle near the eyes. A raise of the brow that was so minuscule that one would think it did not matter. But it did. That one little motion changed everything and the world was never the same. 

When seen on CCTV later, the dark haired genius smiled, big and broad, in response to the tiny smirk seen in the grainy footage.

A smile. From James Bond. 

The myth was correct. It did exist.

And it existed for Q.


	36. Chapter 36

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous Prompt: 00Q with Q finding out that he is pregnant and trying to figure out a way to tell bond please?

James Bond was the least likely person in the world to settle down and have a family.  Q knew this, all the other agents knew this.  Most likely all the marks knew this.  James was the love them and leave them type, enjoying the bachelor lifestyle and not looking to make any changes to it.  Q still wondered how their clandestine relationship had lasted as long as it had but chalked it up to Bond enjoying the secretive nature of it more than the company he shared.  Double oh agents all enjoyed a good mystery.

But with this knowledge, Q faced a choice.  Disappear and leave behind not only his promising career in espionage but also a man he had come to love, even if the other would never return the sentiment.  The other option was to tell Bond, to explain what happened.  Disappearing was certainly the easier option.  Less discomfort that way, plus Q was certain he could disappear to the point that 007 would never be able to find him.  

He deserves to know, Q’s brain supplied unhelpfully.  And deep down, he knew it was true.  James Bond may have hundreds of children in the world - god knows he had to have had at least that many partners - but even if he knew of none of the others, Q would make sure he knew about this one. If only for Q’s integrity if not Bond’s peace of mind.

But how to tell him?  It wasn’t unheard of for a man to get pregnant.  It had been known to happen but Q had been on suppressants to prevent this very thing.  Med would be getting a piece of his mind, he knew that but that didn’t change the fact that right now, his and Bond’s child was growing in his belly.

The romantic part of him, small and kept tamped down at almost all times, told Q that maybe Bond would love the idea of a child, the two of them would raise their baby together and they could be a family.  But Bond loved his job and family life and espionage did not go well together.  Only Tanner managed it and that was because he wasn’t in the field.  Bond wouldn’t give it up and Q wouldn’t ask him to.

He could just vanish.  There were places he could go, even in the country, where Bond would never look for him.  Raise the child on his own and never tell them about their other father.  The idea of giving up the baby never even crossed his mind.  Q had wanted a family all his life and only the job at MI6 kept him firmly on the suppressants.  Now that it had happened, he wasn’t going to question it.  This was his chance and if he had to lose his job, that was something he would deal with.

In the end, he decided to vanish.  Q’s heart could take the look of disgust or pity on Bond’s face and he didn’t want everyone else staring at him as he got larger, wondering who had gotten him pregnant and why they weren’t there now.  Everything taken care of at work, Q gave the branch one last look before slipping out the door, acting for all the world as if he would be back the next morning.

His things were packed, already in the car he kept for when travel was absolutely necessary.  With one hand on his belly, he walked through the empty flat that had been his home for so many years.  In the bedroom, he left a note where his bed had been.  Bond would find it there, Q was certain.  No one else at MI6 knew where he lived so it would be safe.  

_James,_

_I am sure my absence is a bit of a surprise but please know I did it for you.  I didn’t want to leave you with a choice that I didn’t think you should have to make.  I made it for you, freeing you from any responsibility in this situation._

_I’m pregnant._

_I know how important your career is to you and a child and husband would just weigh you down.  I am not asking you to give any of that up.  Continue on as you were before.  I’m sure R will make a wonderful Q.  You can trust her with your life.  I do._

_While I know it is not likely, I am leaving you this key.  It opens the door to my new home.  Find it, and you are welcome in our lives at any time.  But if I never see you again, I will understand.  Parenthood was something I always wanted and as much as I love you (and I do, in case you didn’t know), I won’t give this up._

_Take care, Bond.  Know that I will think of you every day, when our child looks at me with your eyes and smiles your smile.  I will protect them and love them and they will be safe._

_I will miss you, James.  Maybe we will meet again._

_Until then, always yours,_

_-Q_

Two weeks later, in a home just outside Leeds, Q heard a knock on the door.


	37. Making Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ABO Verse James and Q trying to have sex with a house of seven pups — sent by madwriterscorner

Q loved their family. He wouldn’t have traded any of their pups for anything. However, with seven of them from age 12 to several months, finding time to be alone with his mate was, well, a challenge. Getting their baby Eliza in bed, the two toddlers tucked in and the older kids watching videos, Q pulled James down the hall to their bedroom, hoping to get a little alone time before anyone realized they were missing.

James pressed Q to the door, kissing his neck while Q hooked his leg over James’ hip. Soft sighs and whimpers were muffled when Q pressed his mouth to James’ shoulder, wanting to do nothing that would draw their attention. And just as James palmed the front of Q’s trousers, they heard the inevitable, “PAPA!!” Q sighed, adjusted himself and slinked down the hall to Abby’s room, hoping to soothe the crying toddler.

Once she was settled with her water, he hurried back to their room, where he and James picked up where they had left off. Or tried to because the moment the door was closed, Gemma was banging on it. “Daddy! Papa! Tell Harry to give my book back!” This time it was James’ turn to take care of the issue and Q used the time he heard his mate’s voice carrying down the hall to rid himself of his clothes and laid in their bed, hoping that it would make things faster.

By the time James had settled the disagreement, Q had fallen asleep in their bed, the duvet pulled over his bare body. James slipped out of his own clothing and slid in behind his mate, pressing his chest to Q’s back and kissing at his neck, causing Q to squirm happily. They were finally making some progress, James stroking Q slowly as the omega whimpered and sighed. A knock on the door brought another type of sigh to his lips and Q slipped from the bed, throwing on a dressing gown.

“What is it, Beatrice?” His eldest daughter blushed, perhaps guessing what she was interrupting and Q felt guilty. “Daddy and I are about to go swimming. What can I help you with?”

“Oh,” the relief on her face was nearly comical. “I just wanted to say good night! Gemma’s going to bed too and the twins are going to play games in their room.” She kissed his cheek and scampered off, leaving a relieved Q behind.

Turning as soon as the door was closed, Q smiled at James. “I actually think that was a fantastic idea. Fancy a swim?”

James threw on his dressing gown as well and soon both of them slipped into the warm water in the pool outside their home. And as they held each other and kissed, James slipped inside his mate. Both of them whimpered as they rocked together, the soft waves of the water aiding in the motion. It was soft and gentle, nearly silent and when they came together, James whispered Q’s name in his ear and kept their bodies connected for several more minutes, enjoying a moment where they could just be together. In a life of chaos and kids, nightmares and nappies, these were the moments the two men lived for.


	38. DejaVu

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For the prompt: James and Q getting trapped in a room filling with water and Q drowning before James saves them. Maybe James realises his love for Q when he's dead like Vesper but then he manages to resuscitate Q so cue loads of angsty fluff idk

“Not again. Please God, not again.”

The water was quickly receding from the room leaving only James Bond - pleading to whatever deity might be listening - and the lifeless body of the one person he had loved since Vesper had left him in much the same way. This time, he had not said the words or even acted on any of his feelings before it was over. But now, all those feelings came rushing back: the feeling of helplessness and horror, the look of panic and fear on Q’s face as the water flowed over his beloved features. 

It had been a trap, he realized that now. Luring him here with the one piece of bait that would get James Bond to be reckless, even if he himself hadn’t realized it yet. He had found Q, already badly beaten in this room and realized a moment too late what was happening when the doors locked and water started flooding in. If there was one way to break the illustrious 007, forcing to watch his lover drown was the best way to do it. And now, it appeared Q had paid the ultimate price for the life James led. 

Sooner or later, the person responsible would come for him. No one would go to this much trouble to not gloat over their victory and James would be ready. James would die, he was certain of that. Moreover, he welcomed it, as one might welcome sleep after a long day. A life spent watching the two people he had ever loved die the same death in his arms, made it so he felt no need to go on. Another would step into the mantle of 007. Queen and country would be safe under their watch and Bond would finally be free of the pain he had carried for so long.

For now, while they waited James was frantically trying to revive him. Chest compressions, mouth to mouth, anything to get the impossibly young quartermaster to breathe once more. James sent a vow into the universe that if Q came back to him, he would not waste another second of the time they had together. He tried not to notice Q’s cheeks still tinged slightly pink and the bruises visible on his pale skin. The person responsible would pay for their crime. That was the only thing James wished to still do on this earth if Q was gone forever. And if Q came back to him, if he was blessed in a way he had never been before, then he would get him out of here and make sure that no one ever hurt Q again.

James thought he would cry when Q coughed, expelling the water from his lungs as he began to breathe again. James helped him sit up, Q cradled against James’ chest as he brushed the hair out of Q’s face. Silent tears fell down Q’s face as the life came back into him, but that didn’t stop the look of confusion on his features when James pressed a kiss to that soft hair. “Later,” he whispered, as the latches on the door began to creak. Leaving Q in one corner of the room where he would hopefully be safer, James did not wait for an explanation or soliloquy. He dispatched everyone with lethal efficiency. None of these people deserved sympathy or mercy. They had hurt Q and they deserved to die.

When the outer room was cleared, he came back for Q, cradling the injured Quartermaster in his arms, trying not to jostle what he knew to be some serious injuries. “Bond?” His voice sounded scratchy and raw, probably a combination of the water and screaming from whatever happened before James arrived. 

“Rest, Q,” he whispered, voice tender as he held the man he loved, had loved for so long without realization. “When we get home, we will talk.”

Activating the radio Q had given him days prior, James’ kissed Q’s hair again, relishing the happy sigh he heard from him. Soon they would be home in London and James hoped they would be able to start the rest of their lives together.


	39. Chapter 39

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 00Q prompt if you feel like it: Pinning Bond and oblivious Q who has a huge crush on 007 but doesn't act on it because he thinks he's straight. Q even tries to find himself a boyfriend but Bond gets super jealous/possessive and tries to ruin it :) — sent by anonymous

“What are you doing?” Eve asked, arms crossed as Q pulled on his coat at an near reasonable six in the evening.  “You never leave this early.”

Q shrugged, unable to argue with that.  He was a notorious workaholic but that description worked for everyone at MI6.  Normal working hours were for people outside the agency.  But today, he had a reason to be anywhere but here.  “I have a date if you must know.”

“Finally asked Bond out, did you?”  Her smug attitude grated on him and Q glared at her. 

“How many times do I have to tell you?  Bond is straight.  It doesn’t matter how much I would love to date him, me wanting him won’t make it otherwise.  So I’m going to move on as best I can.”

He didn’t need to look up to know the look he was getting from Eve.  They had this conversation at least once a week and it always ended the same.  But this time, Q actually had a date and he was going through with that which he threatened week in and week out.  “Q!  Have you even asked him?  James might surprise you.  James WILL surprise you.  You don’t see how he pines for you day in and day out.  I’ve never seen someone more oblivious to flirting than you are.”

“If I’m so oblivious, how is it that I’m the one with the date tonight?”  With that, he locked his computer and left the room, ignoring any more arguments Eve threw his way.

 

Two hours later, Q found himself seated across from the dullest man in London.  He had properly vetted the man, of course, and found that Jeremy didn’t even have as much as a parking ticket.  He worked for a bank downtown which was, unfortunately, what had led to this date.  Because, for whatever reason, Q had chosen to use his alias that worked in cyber security for financial institutions when he had gone out the night he met.  He had never met a banker before using that name and background.  And now he found himself trying to be polite and avoid any direct questions regarding his work.

And if that wasn’t bad enough, thirty minutes into dinner, none other than James Bond had walked into the restaurant, seated himself at the bar and proceeded to glare holes in the back of Jeremy’s head.  Q narrowed his eyes and tried to make it clear he wasn’t wanted but honestly, between the two men in the bar he knew, there was only one he wanted to talk to and it wasn’t the one he was currently with.

“Have you been following the numbers from the LSE and Hong Kong?  Could be in for a poor quarter if we can’t make some sort of rebound,” Jeremy was saying and Q nodded mindlessly, eyes darting back to James, who was nowhere to be found.  Before he could even look around to find him, James slid into an empty chair at their table.

“Q!  What a surprise!” His eyes told Q that finding him here was anything but a surprise and silently he curse Eve. 

Nodding at James, he forced an icier tone than he really felt.  “Bond, what are you doing here?”

Jeremy stuck out his hand, “Jeremy Carr.  Quain’s date for the night.”

“Quain?  You do realize that’s not his real name right?  And whatever job he told you, that isn’t true either.”  James chuckled, looking too proud of himself.

“Is this true?”  Jeremy looked heartbroken and for a moment, Q hated Bond.  Jeremy was a bore but he didn’t deserve this.

He nodded, but it was James who answered.  “No one knows his name to be honest.  It’s classified.  You probably would have gone this whole relationship dating someone who doesn’t exist.  Do you want to know what he does do for a living?  He helps me kill people.  Want to be next?”

Jeremy was out of there like a shot, leaving Q and James alone, James looking smug and insufferable.  “Why the hell did you do that?  He was boring but, at least, he…  You know what, never mind.  Thanks for burning my best alias, Bond.  You are rather shite at the secret part of secret agent.”

“He wasn’t good enough for you. I saved you the hassle of finding out.  You deserve someone who you can be honest with.”

Q’s cheeks flushed, “Yes, well, the only one at work I’m interested in is certifiably straight so pardon me if I take what I can get.”

“For someone so smart, you really are an idiot,” Bond mumbled fondly before leaning in and kissing Q on the lips.  “Certifiably straight in the field.  Cautiously bisexual in real life.”

The flush on his cheeks grew deeper but it was the look in his eyes – equal parts hope and desire – that had James moving in for another kiss. 

Q didn’t look forward to facing Eve and telling her she was right.  However, the date night certainly finished a lot better than it started.


	40. Squad Goals

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> M, Tanner, Moneypenny and Q being BAMFS, cleaning up the post-spectre clusterfuck they have been left with plus rebuilding MI6 from the rubble,all the while becoming BFFS,have mI6 family feels, and becoming the embodiment of #squadgoals. Of course Bond is Bond so he ends up back at MI6 bewildered by their friendship, dealing with the fact every one is varying shades of pissed off at him because he is actually a bit of an idiot and the realisation that 00q is meant to be !! — sent by anonymous

Something was different. There wasn’t any one thing that James could put his finger on that made him feel that way.  It was a general sense that things had changed even if on the face of things, everything was the same.  As he made his way through the building, pointedly ignoring the looks he was getting from everyone whispering about the return of 007.  

Tanner and Eve were the first ones he saw though it was awhile before they saw him.  If James didn’t know better (which he had to admit, he didn’t), James would have thought they were a couple.  The two were close together, looking at something on Eve’s phone and laughing.  They were pressed close shoulder to hip and James narrowed his eyes.  “Remember that?  Q looked adorable with the dust all over his face.  Who knew he was so good with a sledgehammer?” Eve was grinning as she spoke, and James wanted to see the picture with every fiber of his being. What was that all about?

Clearing his throat, James stepped forward, hoping to gain their attention and perhaps catch a glimpse of the picture they were working for.  “Bond?”  Tanner asked, sounding completely unsurprised.  Glancing at the calendar, he groaned.  “Damn, I had you down for two weeks from Sunday for your return.  I thought you would last longer than you did.” Tanner’s shoulders drooped as he noticed Eve’s little dance, and he shook his head.  “Shit, M won, didn’t he?  Well, make sure he takes you somewhere nice, Evie.  The least he can do for taking all our money.”

There were so many things going on there that Bond felt like he was unpacking a box.  “You knew I was coming back?” Was where he started because it seemed the simplest.   “How did you know?”

“Because you can’t stay away,” Eve explained.  “You were bound to be back sooner.  You’ll have some explaining to do to Q.  He lost about a month ago.  You’ll be lucky if he ever forgives you.  I’m grateful, though.  I’ve been needing a holiday and now Gareth has no excuse.”

An overwhelming sense of confusion settled over him once more.  “You?  And MALLORY?” he asked, unsettled.  “What about your boyfriend?”  

Eve rolled her eyes, “That was ages ago, Bond.  You’ve been gone too long.  Besides, who wants to stick around when you are at work all the time?  You left, you don’t know what we’ve been dealing with here. How utterly like you to waltz back in when we had finally finished.  Suppose you think you are getting back into the field immediately.  Go see M and see what he has to say.”

James could tell when he was dismissed and he left them behind, the two having immediately gone back to giggling over whatever they had been looking at before.  He grumbled to himself, moving his way toward M’s office, his thoughts on everything he had just seen and heard.

With Eve away from her desk, M’s office was open and Bond sauntered in, giving Mallory his trademark smirk.  “I have been reliably informed that my presence today is quite profitable for you. You are welcome.”

“Where the hell have you been?” M snapped, closing the file he was looking at and glaring at the prodigal agent.  “Q is going to murder you and I’m not going to stop him.”

“I believe you were all informed I had retired.  I wish to retract that.  As for Q, I’m certain he has found another agent to lord over.  But I will be happy to take that place once more.”

If possible, M’s eyes narrowed even more.  “Bloody cheek.  You have no idea what you did when you left, do you?  Or do you just not care?  Break his heart and no one will ever find you again, understand?  Dismissed.”

There was no argument left for Bond, who wondered once more what he had missed over the past year. There seemed to be only one place where he was going to get any answers so he stepped into the lift that would take him to Q-Branch.  

Q had his back to him but he still tensed the moment Bond stepped into the room. “What do you want?” came the soft question, almost too quiet for Bond to hear.  Of course, Q would have seen the moment he entered the building.  “I’m not giving you another car.  The only reason I wasn’t court-martialed for the DB-5 is because M pulled some strings. Not that you thought about how it would reflect on me.”  His voice was void of all emotion, cold and terrifying.  Bond had never heard that from Q and he didn’t like it.

“I brought it back. It’s still in one piece even.”

“Do you think I care about the bloody car?” Q asked, turning on James and glaring at him.  “You left without a thank you or a thought.  Bill, Eve and Gareth, along with myself, rebuilt everything that you left behind.  This agency is better than it ever has been and that is no thanks to you. So what do you have to say for yourself?”

Bond was stunned. Never had Q spoken to him like that. He was more mature, more grounded. But more than that, there was a pain in Q’s eyes the likes of which Bond had never seen and he didn’t like it because he knew he was the cause of it.  Now Eve and M’s comments made sense.  Now that he had seen the man for himself, James knew why.  

“I made a mistake, Q. I’m sorry.”  Q met James’ eyes and there was a slight glimmer of hope that James held onto as he continued saying words he had never managed to say to anyone else whose heart he had broken, knowingly or not.  “I know it will take time but I’d like to win back your trust. You put everything on the line and I took without giving back.  I would like to give back if you will let me.”

The indecision warred on Q’s face, he still couldn’t hide his emotions at all, and finally, he sighed, looking defeated.  “We will see. You can start with dinner. Tomorrow at seven.  But if you take any of my cars, I will let M do what he wanted to do when you left.  Trust me, it won’t be pleasant.  Go buy yourself a bloody Audi if it’s that important.”

Bond chuckled and hoped that this was enough to build a new foundation on.  One of trust and MUTUAL appreciation.


	41. Queen and Country

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For the prompt from Anonymous: Bond takes Q to meet the queen

“Where are we going,” Q asked for what had to be the hundredth time. 

“Dinner with a friend.”  James continued to be annoyingly vague and Q believed him to be doing it on purpose.  His lover could be infuriating like that.

James had his reasons, though, most of them being that if Q knew the true nature of this dinner, he would panic.  As cool and calm as the quartermaster was in the heat of a mission, he tended to get worked up over things that had far less impact on people’s lives.  Though James could argue, this could be a life or death situation.  It wouldn't be, but there was always that possibility.  And Q, who could jump to the worst possible situation in under sixty seconds, would fixate on that to the detriment of their evening.  James reasoned it was better to keep him in the dark until the identity of their dining companion became too obvious to ignore.

Stepping from the shower, Q was quick to dry off, wrapping the towel around his hips, slung low and enticing around his body.  “How am I supposed to know how to dress if you will not tell me who we are meeting or even where we are meeting them?” 

Several droplets of water ran down his pale chest and James paused, considering how bad it would be to stand up their dinner date in order to take Q to bed immediately.  Deciding it would be terribly poor form, James shrugged, “You don’t need to know. I’ve already picked it out for you.” Pointing to the door, Q’s tuxedo hung from the back of it, pressed and ready to be worn.

Paling slightly at the sight, Q swallowed heavily before asking, “Tell me this isn’t a mission.  Tell me you aren’t proposing.  Tell me I’m not going to want to die of humiliation by the end of the evening.”

James smirked, pulling Q close enough that Q could smell his aftershave, even over the scent of the soap he had just used.  “This isn’t a mission.  And I’m not proposing.  You’ve made your position on that quite clear.  As for the humiliation, I suppose that is up to you.  But I’ve seen you handle terrorists and agents without batting an eye so I have the utmost confidence that you will be fine with Liz.”

“Liz?”  The name was unfamiliar, and for someone with an eidetic memory like Q, he knew that if Bond had mentioned her before, he would know.  “James, what is going on?”  James didn’t answer and Q was left to glare holes in his back as Bond smirked and strolled out of the room, looking as though he had not a care in the world.

Q continued to be surprised when, after he had finished dressing, James informed him that a car from MI6 would be driving them.  Bond never went anywhere without his trusting Aston Martin and it only confirmed Q’s suspicions that something was terribly awry. 

In the car, Bond sat straight and proper and, if Q didn’t know better, he would say James was nervous.  That only led to his own nervous energy, applied to building small programs on his phone while the car drove the streets of London.  He only looked up when they pulled to a stop and the driver could be heard talking with someone. 

Q’s mouth went dry instantaneously and he looked at James in equal parts fear and horror.  Surely his agent couldn’t mean this?  But between the name and the location, Q knew who they were having dinner with.  It had been rumored that James knew her but Q never asked.  Now he wished he had. 

                              Buckingham Palace.

                              The Queen.

                              Fuck.

“James Bond,” he hissed through clenched teeth.  “When were you going to tell me we were meeting _the Queen_?”

“About now.” 

If they weren’t already on the palace grounds, Q would have strangled him right then and there.  As it was, he barely maintained his composure walking through the halls to what James later explained was the Queen’s private dining room.

Heart pounding, Q bowed deeply when he saw her, hands balled to try and fight against the trembling. 

“Your Majesty,” Bond smiled, bowing as well.  “May I present to you my partner, Q.  One of the finest minds of all of England and currently employed in your Secret Service as my quartermaster.”

What followed, Q couldn’t begin to describe.  He was so terrified that the rest of the night passed in a blur though he was fairly certain he made a good impression.  And as they were driven home, a sleepy Q rested his head on James’ shoulder, still upset about the man’s secrecy but willing to forgive him considering how the night had transpired. 

Because while he might not remember what exactly happened, it was still a night he would never forget.


	42. Possessive

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For the anon prompt: Bond being protective/possessive of his Q

Q didn’t hold any illusions that a relationship with James Bond would be normal. How could it when one of them was a computer genius and one who carried a license to kill? But if he had been honest with himself, this wasn’t what he was expecting. When it was just the two of them, it was wonderful. James was caring and considerate. They spent hours curled together on the sofa, watching telly and eating the frankly remarkable food James could make. Who know 007 could cook? The relationship was a dream come true, everything Q had ever wanted.

But when other people came into the picture, things got more complicated. The first time was just silly and Q didn’t think anything of it. Eve was spending time in Q-Branch, having perched herself on Q’s desk, babbling about her latest meeting with M and the head of MI5. Q laughed along with her and at one point, she innocently put her hand on his shoulder. Q thought nothing of it, they were close friends after all, but at that moment, James had walked into the office. Stalking forward, James put his hand on Q’s other shoulder. “He’s mine, Eve.”

“Like anyone would ever question that, James,” Eve laughed. “Besides, I’m not his type.”

If it had been an isolated incident, Q wouldn’t have thought much of it. But it began to happen more and more often. James seemed to have an uncanny ability to know when someone was close to Q, however, innocent it might be. All he needed to do was walk into the room and the person near Q would jump back as if burned. Not always an issue if people were bothering him but when they were doing actual work, it was certainly an inconvenience.

“James!” Q had exclaimed after one particularly trying day where no one would get close to him due to Bond hovering in the back of the department. “My office! Now!” He stormed off, a dark cloud obviously over his head. James followed, looking for all the world like he got yelled at by his quartermaster on a daily basis.

Once in the office, away from curious ears, Q turned on him. “What the hell are you doing? Don’t you have real work to do? Something that doesn’t terrify everyone who gets near me.”

“You are mine.” The words sounded as if he was simply remarking on the weather. “They shouldn’t be that close to you.”

Q narrowed his eyes, “And why is that? Don't you trust me? You think that something is going to happen if I’m not supervised at all times.” While he might not have had parents as a teenager, this was how Q imagined it would have been.

“That isn’t it,” James mumbled. “I trust you. It’s them I don’t trust.” All the confidence and bravado was gone, and Q almost felt sorry for him. If he hadn’t been a massive twat all week.

“ So explain it to me. Why don’t you trust them? I’m a highly trained agent, James. Just because I’m in Q-Branch all day doesn’t mean I haven’t had much of the same training as you. I can handle a few minions and accountants.”

Sighing, James collapsed into the chair next to Q’s desk, head in his hands. “I can’t lose you. I can’t go through that again.” The realization dawned in Q’s mind as he mouthed a silent oh.

Tracey.  
Alec.  
Vesper.  
Strawberry.  
Ronson.  
Severine.  
Madeleine.

The list of James’ lost loves was lengthy, many lost to violent means. That James would be protective on the verge of possessive was not surprising. Kneeling in front of James, Q eased James’ face from his hands, forcing the agent to look at him.  
“You aren’t going to lose me. I’m right here, James. I’m not going anywhere. I will be here until you don’t want me anymore. But you have to let me do my job. I can’t keep everyone at an arm’s length because you fear Brian from Finance might hurt me. I appreciating what you are doing but please, have some faith in me. You have my heart. I would be mad to walk away from this.”

Q searched James’ face, looking for any sign that he understood. It took a while but eventually his look softened and he gave Q the smile that existed for Q alone. “I’m still going to protect you. But I promise not to scare off everyone in MI6. Except maybe Brian.” Q’s brow furrowed as James grinned, “I’ve seen the way he looks at you and he needs to know that you are absolutely and completely mine.”


	43. For Hire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> James is a sex worker and Q hires him — sent by madwriterscorner

_There is nothing to be ashamed of_ he told himself for what must be the hundredth time.  “I’m simply lonely and don’t have the time to invest in a true relationship.”  

When he had called the agency, he had given them the name Q.  It was safer to use a pseudonym, he reasoned.  If anyone ever discovered the agency’s records, they would have no way of tracking it back to him.  He would pay cash, have one night with someone holding him, and go back to his life, no worse than before.  It meant nothing.  

They arranged to meet at one of the best hotels in London.  Q’s only request was a man older than forty.  He had a thing for older men and figured if he was going to pay for affection, he may as well go all out.  Q got there first, nerves causing his stomach to roll uncomfortably.  “Just affection,” he reminded himself.  Physical contact that was sorely missing in his life.  And if he had to pay for it, so be it.

Nearly jumping out of his skin when the knock sounded, he took a deep breath before opening the door. At first, he thought the man was lost. There was no way a man that looked like Ike him was in this profession.  Just as he opened his mouth to tell him he had the wrong room, the man asked, “Q?  I’m James.” All he could do was nod and step back to let him in.  

Swallowing hard, Q found his voice.  “Um, I’ve never done this before, so, what do you expect of me?”  He hated the way his voice sounded, shaky and afraid.  Certain that all of James’ clients were probably like James himself – strong, attractive, perfect – Q wondered if James was disappointed with him.  Nothing to be done for that now, and he thought James was too much of a professional to let his unhappiness show.

James stepped forward, placing his hands on Q’s shoulders in a manner more befitting friends than this pseudo-relationship they had right now.  “This is whatever you want it to be, Q.”  The letter fell from his lips with a smile, it was so obviously not his name. “You are the one paying me.  You guide this encounter.  Besides, you paid for the whole night so we do not need to rush anything.”

Cupping Q’s face, James kissed him softly, gentle and tender, completely unlike what Q had expected from a man he hired.  Catching his breath when James pulled back, Q stared at him.  “This isn’t what I expected,” he admitted.  “I sort of thought you would fuck me and leave. Which wasn’t really what I wanted but it seemed better than nothing.”

Taking Q’s hand, James led him to the bed.  “What did you want?”  The words were kind, nonjudgmental.  He truly did care about making this something that Q enjoyed, Q realized and it helped him relax further.

“I have a difficult job. It has long hours and I don’t have time for relationships.”  That much was true but there was more to it.  Q swallowed down his embarrassment as he continued, “I want to be held.  I want to feel loved, if only for one night. That’s pathetic, isn’t it?”  

James wrapped his arms around Q, kissing him gently. It was the first tender embrace of the night and the way Q’s heart was pounding beneath his hand, James knew it would not be the last.  “It isn’t pathetic,” he whispered, moving them to the bed.  “Lay down.  We won’t do anything you feel uncomfortable with.”

The next hour passed with gentle touches, soft kisses and Q finally relaxing under James’ hands.   Only then did James peel his off clothes, as slowly as everything else he had done.  Q sighed, lying back as James began to kiss his skin, reducing him to relaxed muscles and soft mind.  Eventually, Q relaxed enough for James to slip inside him, making love as though they had been together forever and he know every place to touch Q to bring him to the highest points of pleasure.  When Q came, he cried out James’ name and collapsed to the mattress. He smiled when he felt James come inside him, a look of surprise on his lover’s face.

“Did you really expect me to be so bad in bed that you would be shocked when you came?”  If he wasn’t so relaxed and happy, Q would have been insulted.  When James shook his head, slipping from Q and lying next to him, Q smiled broader.

“I don’t normally get off with clients.  I normally have so many things on my mind, it doesn’t happen.  You broke down my barriers.”  Q reached out and drew his hand gently down James’ cheek, trying to brush away the embarrassment he was surprised to see there.

While he had the whole night, Q’s eyes were heavy and he leaned over to give James’ a kiss before curling his body around him.  “I’ll call you again,” he muttered sleepily.

James’ arms tightened around him and Q could hear the smile in James’ voice as he drifted off, “I would be insulted if you didn’t.”


End file.
